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GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 



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BY 

■7/ 

GEORGE M.'tOWLE. 

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I) 



BOSTON: 

134 Washington Street. 
1866. 






^x^ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 

WILLIAM V. SPENCER, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



8T8KK0TYPED AT »HB 

BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDET, 
No. 4 Spring Lose. 



TO THE 

EOJSr, WILLIAM PITT FLSSEJSFDEJSr, 

THIS VOLUJIE 

IS RESPECTFULLY INSCItlBED. 



PREFAGU. 



The ensuing historical and biographical sketches 
(for they claim to be no more), with two excep- 
tions, are taken from leading American periodicals, 
to which they have been, from time to time, con- 
tributed. The subjects have been selected with 
reference to present interest. At a time when 
progressive forces are so active, narratives of men 
who have aided in the development of nations, 
and of scenes which were significant of transitions 
from a less to a more enlightened state, are cer- 
tainly pertinent, and can hardly fail to interest. 
The endeavor has been so to present characters 
and events, that lessons may be aptly derived from 
them. John Bright, Count Cavour, and Alexis 
de Tocqueville are representatives of English, Ital- 
ian, and French progress within the present age. 

(5) 



6 PBEFACE. 

They all, more or less, have derived their experi- 
ence from a contemplation of American institutions. 
Leigh Hunt, himself of American parentage, was 
a pioneer in literary reform. There is no happier 
illustration of the principle that man advances, than 
that afforded by the career of England within the 
past century. 

It is earnestly hoped that, as far as this little 
volume shall reach the pubHc eye, encouragement 
and trust in the principles of our own system will 
be derived from a perusal of the career of those 
large-minded men, who have sought the highest 
good of Europe by its imitation. 

Boston, November, 1865. 



Q ONTE NT S. 



PAGB 

Memorable Assassinations ••• 9 

n. 

John Bright 29 

III. 
The Opening Scenes op the Rebellion 63 

IV. 
The Last of the Stuarts 67 

V. 

Lord Chancellor Campbell 77 

VL 
Count Cavour » 86 

VII. 
The Last Days of Chatham. . 130 

VIII. 
Leigh Hunt. 142 

IX. 

Alexis db Tocqueville 178 

X. 

The Cardinal-Kings 212 

XI. 

A Century of English History : 1760 to 1860 232 

(7) 



GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 



I. 

MEMORABLE ASSASSINATIONS. 

^XTR country, in the assassination of Peesident 
LrsTCOLN, has witnessed, for the first time, the 
death of a public ofificer by violent hands. Hitherto 
it has been our lot to hear of such deeds at a dis- 
tance of time and place, — among nations where 
tyrants have provoked a- miserable fate, — in ages 
when the rude logic of the sword shaped events to 
the wish of the wicked and powerful. There is 
something so peculiarly atrocious in the murder of 
a good man, and especially of a gentle and humane 
ruler, for no discernible object save the gratifica- 
tion of a fiendish passion, that we are horror-stricken 
as we read them to have occurred centuries ago, 
and in distant countries. The shock which we our- 
selves have been doomed to receive, shows that we 
are not exempt from the aiflictions of erring hu- 
manity everywhere. As we grow older as a nation, 
we can more and more appreciate the distresses and 

1* (9) 



10 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

calamities of sister nations, who, in their long 
struggle towards civilization, have been rent and 
torn by every misfortune in the range of the im- 
agination to conceive. For good men have perished 
before, in the history of the world, at the hands of 
assassins. It is a fate not reserved to tyrants alone, 
but the deserving and the undeserving have alike 
suffered the calamity. 

It is the object of this essay to give an account of 
the assassination of three of the greatest and best 
men who have illumined history ; men who were, at 
the moment they were stricken down, Hke our own la- 
mented Lincoln, doing good service to their country ; 
two of whom, at least, were leading the van of 
enlightenment and freedom, and were battling stead- 
ily with the old systems, which would have still held 
the world in bondage to hierarchical and civil des- 
potism. These two were both reigning princes by 
hereditary right ; yet they thought more for the 
liberties of mankind than for their own aggrandize- 
ment. To the liberties of mankind they became 
martyrs, as Lincoln has become a martyr to the 
same principle. When you come upon their names 
in history, pause, and venerate and glorify them ; pay 
to them in your thought the just tribute which their 
noble devotion to the noblest of causes claims from 
every generation ; linger fondly and reverently about 
the memory of these princes, who were unselfish, 



MEMORABLE ASSASSINATIONS. 11 

brave, lovers of freedom, protectors of the oppressed 
of nations, terrors to the black traditions of the older 
ages, — and who died by stolen thrusts, aimed by 
the despotisms they would annihilate. 

Henry the Foueth, Ktng of France and 
Navarre, surnamed the Great, ascended the throne 
at a time when the religious dissensions of his people 
were still kindled by the recollection of St. Bartholo- 
mew. He had himself narrowly escaped that terrific 
massacre, the work of Catharine de Medicis. Born 
and reared a Huguenot, he had been looked upon by 
that sect as their proper leader, and had devoted his 
early years to the protection of their cause. He was 
at the Louvre when the massacre occurred ; and, to 
save his own life, and that of thousands of others, 
he had been constrained to abjure Protestantism, and 
to receive the Catholic communion. It was to save 
the Protestants of France that Henry of Navarre 
became a Romanist. By the death of Henry the 
Third, he became king; and after his accession, 
although nominally a Catholic, he continued to be 
throughout his life the strong shield and staff of the 
weaker religion. His reign was a series of successes 
in the field, reforms in council, and progressive 
strides in society. In every public department the 
energy and zeal of his great soul were apparent ; 
and he was no less beloved for his paternal fondness 



12 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

for all his subjects, than respected for his various 
abilities, and adored for his untiring devotion to 
France. 

In the year 1610, King Henry was preparing an 
armament for a great design, which he had formed ; 
and the rendezvous in Champagne soon became the 
headquarters of a large and brilliant force. His 
second queen, Marie de Medicis, had never been 
formally cro\vned ; and Henry deemed it fitting, 
before he departed on the ensuing campaign, that 
this ceremony should be performed. His warm and 
affectionate nature suggested this as due to a consort 
whom he sincerely loved ; and the queen herself 
was anxious that such a confirmation of her royal 
dignity should take place. They had already been 
married ten years. The queen was to be regent dur- 
ing his lord's absence. Her crown would be more se- 
cure if placed upon her head by the ministers of God. 

After the preparations had been made, the dis- 
putes about precedence settled, and the court assem- 
bled, the coronation was at length fixed for Wednes- 
day, the 11th of May, 1610. The ceremony was to 
be performed in the ancient cathedral of St. Denis, 
near Paris, where the kings of France had been 
crowned for centuries, and where each, as he de- 
parted, had been laid with royal pomp. 

On the morning of the designated day, the king 
and queen, surrounded by their court, repaired to 



MEMORABLE ASSASSINATIONS. 13 

St. Denis. At two in the afternoon, Marie de Me- 
dicis, conducted by the Cardinal of Gondy, and fol- 
lowed by the Prince of Conti, who bore the crown, 
the Duke of Vendome, who bore the sceptre, and 
the Chevalier de Venddme, who bore the Hand of 
Justice, entered the cathedral, which was crowded 
by a brilliant array of nobles and ladies, and at whose 
altar the prelates of the church stood ready to per- 
form the ceremony. After the queen came the 
princesses of the royal family, carrying the train of 
her dress. 

Marie de Medicis was then in the full bloom of 
mature beauty. That rich blonde complexion, those 
thick golden locks, that voluptuous form, which ap- 
pear in the allegories of Rubens at the Louvre, had 
never been displayed to better advantage. Henry 
declared, in raptures, that "he had never seen her so 
beautiful." The ceremony was performed amid the 
deepest silence, and with that pompous solemnity 
which marks the pageants of the church of Rome. 
The king was observed to be in fine spirits, nodded 
to those whom he recognized in the multitude, and 
conversed fteely with those who were about him. 
He was so restlessly happy, that he could not keep 
his seat, but moved from one place to another. He 
reprimanded the Spanish ambassador for remaining 
covered during the ceremony, and mingled his voice 
deeply in the service. During the whole of that 



14 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBT. 

evening Henry continued of a happy mood, and was 
constant in the words of loving admiration, which he 
bestowed upon Marie's demeanor. 

Many predictions and ill omens had been made 
concerning Henry's speedy death : these, indeed, 
were common in every reign. The queen had been 
told that in May she would receive a great affliction. 
A star of ill omen had appeared. A German horo- 
scope had predicted his death. But the fearless 
heart of the hero of Ivry had rejected all such fables 
with contempt. On the morning of the 14th of 
May, he rose early, and received, with his usual 
cheerful and hearty manner, some of his councillors. 
To those who had not been at St. Denis, he described, 
with infectious enthusiasm, the splendor of the coro- 
nation, and the majestic bearing of Marie. "The 
joy he had conceived thereof," says one, "sat on his 
face all that morning, as he walked in the Tuileries." 
He went to mass, as was his wont. Before dinner 
he consulted an envoy, whom he had sent on a mis- 
sion to Spain. After the meal, during which he 
had, as usual, discoursed with strong sense on mat- 
ters of moment, he held a long conference with two 
of his ministers, Janin and Arnauld. He told them 
that he was resolved to push the reformations in the 
state with all energy. He would relieve the miseries 
and oppressions of his people. He would advance 
men for merit alone. He would call upon all his 



MEMOBABLE ASSASSINATIONS. 15 

servants to aid him in these designs. Such lofty 
thoughts occupied the mind of this great soul, so near 
the end of his career. He then paid a visit to 
Marie's apartments, and approached her with more 
than his wonted tenderness ; and after that, retired to 
his closet to write. 

His faithful minister, Sully, who afterwards wrote 
his life, was lying sick at his house ; and the king, 
whose cordial nature prompted him to strong friend- 
ships, resolved to pay him a visit. About four in 
the afternoon, Henry left the Louvre, in an open 
state coach, with few outriders, and accompanied 
only by the Dukes of Espernon and Montbazon, 
and the Marshal Lavaudin. His bold and confi- 
dent spirit had scoffed at the remonstrances of those 
who had besought him to go more guarded ; and 
such was his trust in his people, and his courage, 
that he went often unattended in the streets of the 
metropolis. On this day, the streets were all alive 
with the preparations which were making for the 
queen's royal entry ; and great multitudes filled 
every avenue. As the king passed through, the 
windows of his coach were open for the breeze. 
When he came to a narrow street, the Rue La Fer- 
ronnerie, the crowd was more thick than ever ; two 
carts, filled with wine and hay, filled the passage ; 
the royal coach was obliged to stop ; the out- 
riders were separated from it by the dense mass of 



16 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBT. 

men and women. The king was at this moment 
sittino: with his arm over Montbazon's shoulder, talk- 
ing earnestly with him ; and Espernon, who was on 
Henry's other side, was leaning forward to catch the 
discourse. Suddenly a man sprang forward from the 
crowd, and inflicted two wounds on Henry's unpro- 
tected side with a poniard. He essayed to inflict a 
third, but Montbazon threw himself before the king, 
and received the thrust on his doublet sleeve. One 
of the wounds was near the heart, and was mortal. 
Henry lifted his arm, and exclaimed, "I am hurt." 
But now the blood rushed out of his mouth in 
streams. Espernon, raising him in his arms, besought 
him to think on God. The glazed eyes turned fer- 
vidly heavenward, and the livid hands were clasped 
together. It was the last act of Henry. The horror 
and confusion of the scene was terrible. The crim- 
inal was struck and beaten, but was finally rescued 
from the enraged multitude. He was a crazed 
monk, and his name is infamously known as Francis 
Ravaillac. He afterwards died a death of the most 
horrible tortures. 

The coach turned back to the Louvre, and every 
remedy was applied, but in vain. The heroic, 
loving, daring heart was quite still. France had 
lost the best and greatest of her kings : the Hugue- 
nots their constant friend, their ever- watchful pro- 
tector ; and civilization its most enlightened pioneer. 



MEMORABLE ASSASSINATIONS, 17 

That Kavaillac was a frenzied bigot, that he was in- 
stigated by others more sound, and infinitely more 
wicked, there is no doubt. That blow came from 
Rome ; and that blow, falling thus upon the most 
illustrious of monarchs and the most devoted of 
patriots, recoiled, in the conflict of the ages, upon 
the murderous breast which conceived it, and directed 
its too fatal aim. 

It was in the midst of an heroic effort to free his 
country from the dominion of Spain, that William 
THE First, Prince of Orange, fell a victim to 
assassination. To him the Dutch Kepublic looked 
with reverence and gratitude as the source whence it 
sprang. By his great abilities, added to his dogged 
perseverance, that little commonwealth had found 
itself capable of resisting the power of Philip the 
Second. Of no man can it be said more truly that 
he was the father of his people. Although the gov- 
ernor of a small nation in an obscure corner of 
Europe, his fame is very bright, and historians do 
not hesitate to compare him with Tell, with Gus- 
tavus, with Washington. William's character was 
certainly a remarkable one. He was an earnest 
patriot, yet he was very ambitious of power. He 
was reserved and silent, yet a lover of mirth, a 
princely host, and not a little of a wit in a quiet 
way ; was often familiar with persons of no rank, 



18 GLiMFSiis OF misTour, 

and was always courteous. Though stern of aspect, 
he was tolerant, liberal, kind. He had a quick and 
brilliant eye, which rightly indicated a faculty of pen- 
etration which was wonderful. He was as firm as 
the everlasting hills wherein he believed himself 
right. He is said to have been " magnificent in his 
hospitality." He was somewhat crafty, somewhat 
insincere ; but he loved Holland, gave himself up to 
the achievement of her liberties, and at last died for 
her. Holland, through him, became fi"ee, and she 
wept for him as for the savior of her life. 

Several attempts, instigated by the perfidious court 
of Spain or its agents, were made on the life of the 
stadtholder before the successiul blow was accom- 
plished. In the year 1582, the Prince of Orange 
assisted in the ceremonies wliich invested the Duke 
of Anjou with the sovereign dukedom of Brabant. 
The festivities and pageants had been on a scale of 
unusual splendor, and the Flemings for once gave 
themselves up to the unrestrained pleasures of the 
hour. On the 18th day of May, which was the new 
duke's birthday, a feast was held, composed only of 
the intimates of Anjou and William. As William, 
after dinner, was passing fi'om the hall to his apart- 
ments, he was shot in the head. The ball entered at 
the right ear, crossed the mouth, and passed through 
the left cheek ; and the prince fainted. The assas- 
sin was instantly seized by the people, and massacred 



MEMORABLE ASSASSINATIONS. 19 

amid loud execrations. Maurice, the young son of 
the prince, examined the pockets of the corpse, to 
ascertain who he was. It transpired that he was a 
Spaniard, by name John Jareguy, the clerk of Anas- 
tro, a Spanish merchant, to whom Philip had offered 
eighty thousand ducats for William's life. Jareguy 
was a young fanatic, and had been prompted to per- 
petrate the act by religious frenzy. It is significant 
that, on the morning before, he had received absolu- 
tion from a priest on account of the projected deed.. 
William, though desperately wounded, recovered from 
this blow. He lay long at the point of death, and 
his convalescence was very slow; but his fine con- 
stitution at last gained the victory. 

From this time William had a presentiment that he 
should die by assassination. He knew that the cun- 
ning and execrable king, whom he had made so bitter 
an enemy, would not rest with an attempt which had 
proved futile. And his presentiment, or, perhaps more 
properly, conviction, was not ill founded, as the issue 
proved. But several more attempts were made before 
there was success. In the same year, 1582, a plot 
was detected to assassinate both the Prince of Orano^e 
and the Duke of Brabant. Salcedo and Baya, the 
one a Spaniard and the other an Italian, were seized, 
and it was discovered by their confession that the 
King of Spain had bribed them, for an enormous 
sum, to assassinate both the princes. Within the next 



20 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

two years, two persons, one a merchant of Flush- 
ino", the other a Spaniard, were convicted of a plot to 
murder William, and were summarily executed ; and 
it was well known that — so active was the purpose 
of Philip to destroy his antagonist — Englishmen, 
Scotchmen, Frenchmen, and Spaniards were on the 
watch, crouching until their opportunity to strike 
should come. 

There was a young Burgundian, by name Baltha- 
zar Gerard, who was a religious fanatic of the most 
diseased order. Not without a certain cunning, he re- 
solved upon a scheme for accomplishing a deed which 
had so often been attempted in vain. He insinuated 
himself into the confidence of the Prince of Orange 
by pretending to be the son of a martyr to the 
reformed religion. William, ever ready to do a 
service to such a one, had procured him an office 
of confidence near the Duke of Brabant. That prince 
died in the month of June, 1584, and Gerard was 
selected to convey the intelligence to William. The 
latter was then at Delft. The messenger was admit- 
ted to his bedside, and performed his mission. Had 
he then had a poniard, he said, he would have struck 
the fatal blow. When Gerard was about to depart, 
the prince made him a present of some money : 
this Gerard used to purchase the instruments of his 
patron's destruction. He purchased a brace of pis- 
tols. The next day, when the prince was at dinner, 



MEMORABLE ASSASSINATIONS. 21 

Gerard came to receive his passport, but was desired 
to wait. The princess, passing, observed him to be 
restless, and noticed a certain tremor in his voice. 
When WilHam came out from dinner the assassin 
was pacing up and down at the foot of the steps which 
led from the hall. Gerard approached the prince as 
if to receive his passport, and fired twice. The shot 
took mortal effect. William, falling on the steps, 
said faintly, "My God, my God, have mercy on my 
soul, and on this unhappy people." He was taken 
up and conveyed to a chamber, where, with his last 
words, he declared his soul to be committed to Christ. 
He died in great pain a few hours after the wound 
was given. Gerard fled for his life, but was easily 
captured. He confessed that the design had been 
harbored for six years. He had been urged to it by 
Jesuits, and by the Spanish agents. With the spirit 
of a confirmed fanatic, he expressed no regret at 
what he had done, and resisted the torture with 
marvellous complacency and courage. He under- 
went with equal fortitude an execution, the details 
of which were horrible. 

William of Orange was laid in his tomb with a 
magnificent funeral. He was fifty-one years of age. 
He died mourned, as none other of his time could 
have been mourned, by Protestant Europe ; and it is 
no wonder that such a storm of hatred and rebellion 
was stirred up, by the event, against Philip of Spain 



22 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

and the execrable tyranny of Rome, that neither ever 
recovered from it. The poor lunatic who did the 
deed was forgotten amid the tremendous obloquy 
which was crowded upon his instigators. 

Lord Brougham, in his vivacious sketches of 
"Statesmen of the Times of George the Third," has 
given us a graphic delineation of Spej^cer Perce- 
val, prime minister of England, who was as- 
sassinated on the 11th day of May, 1812, in the 
lobby of the House of Commons. The suddenness 
of the event, the character of the victim, and the 
dignity of the office which he held,* contributed to 
create the greatest horror at the deed throughout 
Europe. 

Spencer Perceval was the second son of John, 
Lord Egmont, and was bom in the year 1762. 
He received an excellent education at the Harrow 
School, and at Trinity College, Cambridge. Whilst 
at the university, the quickness of his talents was 
recognized, and it was determined by his family, a 
wealthy and influential one, that he should undertake 
the study of law. He was accordingly entered at 
Lincoln's Inn, where his progress was so great that 
he very early became a distinguished barrister at a 
bar illustrious for its brilliant and various abilities. 
The house of Egmont was rigidly attached to the 
court of George the Third, and to the state church. 



MEMORABLE ASSASSINATIONS. 23 

They had clung to the king through all the storms 
which had followed upon George's accession to the 
throne. Their zeal for toryism was thoroughly 
bigoted and thoroughly obstinate. Spencer inher- 
ited the views of the family, and was, from the 
time of his entrance into Parliament as member for 
Northampton, a stern and unyielding advocate of 
the prerogative and the religious tests. When Mr. 
Addington became premier, in 1801, Perceval as- 
sumed office as solicitor general, and in the follow- 
ing year he was promoted to be attorney general. 
When Fox's ministry, weakened by the death of its 
great leader, fell in 1807, Perceval became chancel- 
lor of the exchequer, and leader of the House of 
Commons under the high tory ministry of Portland. 
The retirement of the latter, in 1809, opened the 
way for the chancellor to the highest dignity, and 
Spencer Perceval became prime minister of Eng- 
land. 

As a statesman, Mr. Perceval is described to have 
been energetic, active, courageous, capable of appli- 
cation, and to have possessed a will which brooked 
no opposition. He was a ready speaker, though not 
eloquent, and maintained his part in the debates of 
the House with great credit, though not with con- 
spicuous ability. His political doctrines were nar- 
row and exclusive ; but he thoroughly believed in 
them, and he was conscientious in adhering to them 



24 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

in spite of every obstacle. He could see no merit in 
any principle which did not coincide with his own 
prejudices ; and with a courage which never faltered, 
he gave battle to his opponents at every step. He 
was sincere, most loyal, most devoted to the church. 
His private life was stainless. His temper was quick, 
but never malignant. He was a charitable man. 
"From all sordid feelings," says Lord Brougham, 
"he was entirely exempt, — regardless of pecun- 
iary interest, — careless of mere fortune, — aiming 
at power alone, — and only suffering his ambition to 
be restrained by its intermixture with his fiery zeal 
for the success of his cherished principles, religious 
and civil." This is the language of a bitter political 
opponent. In truth, Spencer Perceval was univer- 
sally respected and widely loved. No truer friend 
of England ever lived. If he was austere towards 
those with whom he differed, it was because he 
believed them to be aiming at the destruction of his 
country. A man, who, as he was, is honorable, 
pure, earnest, and on the alert, never fails to com- 
mand the good will of those he serves. He was not 
great, as Pitt was great. He did not possess a lofty 
eloquence, a prolific genius, or a comprehensive in- 
tellect. But he was great as a party champion, 
quick in attack and strong in defence, and as stead- 
fast as ever mortal was. He was always in the first 
rank of debaters, and he was popular throughout the 



MEMORABLE ASSASSINATIONS. 25 

country. His pjirliamentarj triumplis were frequent 
and complete ; and no man — not even Canning — was 
listened to in the House with a silence so respectful. 
Such he was when he ruled England as her first min- 
ister — able, popular, high-minded, bigoted, zealous, 
kind-hearted, and devoted to his country ; such he 
was when his career was suddenly and terribly cut 
short by the bullet of an assassin. 

John Bellingham was a poor, unfortunate, broken- 
down Liverpool merchant, whose mind had long been 
depressed by a series of disasters in business. Among 
other misfortunes, he had met with some ill treat- 
ment in Eussia. He applied to the government to 
obtain redress, through them, from the cabinet at St. 
Petersburg. Either the secretary of state was re- 
miss in not attending promptly to the affair, or Lord 
Granville, the British ambassador at the court of 
Alexander, had neglected to adjust the claim ; at all 
events, the poor merchant failed to obtain the redress 
he sought. His spirit was so crazed and broken, 
that he conceived, in his desperation, a horrible de- 
sign of revenge. His mode of reasoning seems to 
have been exceedingly irregular ; for he harbored 
malignity against every member of the government, 
as the joint authors of his calamities. He went to 
London, and watched for an opportunity to put his 
purpose into execution. That opportunity was not 
long wanting ; and he used it with an effect which has 

made him infamous for all time. 

2 



26 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

The House of Commons was at that time engaged 
in trying, by witnesses, the effect of creating Eng- 
lish trade into a grand monopoly, which should 
hold the whole world to its dictatorship. Spencer 
Perceval, with all the ardor of his nature, threw 
himself into the conflict, and pushed the whole in- 
fluence of the government in favor of such a 
monopoly. Brougham and Baring, leaders of the 
opposition, were resisting it with equal zeal. On 
the 11th day of May, the examination of wit- 
nesses was proceeding, which IVIr. Brougham was 
conducting. Observing that the prime minister was 
not, as usual, in his place on the treasury bench, 
Mr. Brougham suggested that a messenger should be 
sent for him. The messenger had hardly reached 
the street, when he met Mr. Perceval walking rapidly 
to the House, leaning upon the arm of his friend 
Mr. Stephen. With a quickened and nervous step 
the minister hastened forward, and entered the lobby 
of the Commons, all ready for the conflict — there 
to meet his doom. 

A man had been observed standing in the corridor 
which led to both Houses, with his hand concealed in 
his waistcoat. The Earl of Eldon, lord chancellor, 
on his way to the Lords, had observed this man lurk- 
ing about, as if with an evil intent ; and he afterwards 
believed, that had he not accidentally assumed an 
unusual dress, he would have been the object of the 
assassin's attack. 



MEMORABLE ASSASSINATIONS. 27 

Perceval entered the lobby, followed by Mr. 
Stephen. A sharp, quick shot rang through the 
hall ; and a moment after, the prime minister, stag- 
gering forward a few paces, fell dead into the arms 
of a member. The assassin was instantly seized, 
and, indeed, made no resistance. The speaker, 
Abbot, who happened to be out of the House, was 
sent for, and quickly made his appearance. The 
wretched assassin, who was BeUingham, was brought 
to the bar ; a magistrate was summoned ; he was 
committed to Newgate. The body of the murdered 
statesman was carried to the speaker's house, and 
thence removed in the morning to the late official 
residence of the deceased, in Downing Street. Lord 
Castlereagh, a few days after, presented to the House 
an address to the regent on the event ; and, choked 
with emotion, proceeded to pay an eloquent tribute 
to his deceased colleague. He was followed by 
Canning, Ponsonby, and Whitbread, neither of whom 
could restrain his tears, and whose eloquence left no 
eye dry in the crowded hall. A pension was voted 
unanimously to the widow and children ; and the 
memory of Spencer Perceval had nothing in it which 
any man felt an inclination to reproach. 

As for the assassin, he was taken without re- 
sistance, and was executed on the 18th of May, 
just a week after the perpetration of his crime. 
Within that week he suffered arraignment, trial, 



28 0LIMP8E8 OF HISTORY. 

conviction, execution, and dissection. It appears 
that Bellingham had no especial malice against Per- 
ceval, but was resolved to kill any minister whom he 
happened to meet. He had been in the Court of 
Chancery, with the intention to shoot Lord Eldon, 
but had missed the chance. He had then repaired 
to the lobby. Lord Eldon had passed him, but, 
being dressed differently, he had not recognized 
him. The next was Perceval ; and he fell a victim to 
the desperate revenge which the assassin harbored 
against all the members of the government. 



II. 

JOHN BRIGHT. 

JOHN BEIGHT was bom at Greenbank, near 
the thrifty town of Rochdale, on the 16th of 
November, 1811. His father was Mr. Jacob Bright, 
a gentleman who, by his own exertions, had risen 
from humble means to wealth, in the vocation of a 
cotton manufacturer. John was the second of eleven 
children, the oldest of whom died in infancy. The 
family were devoted members of the Society of 
Friends, and the subject of this sketch still adheres 
to the hereditary faith. John's health, during child- 
hood, caused much solicitude to his parents. His 
constitution was apparently feeble, and it was found 
that study injured his abeady delicate system. At 
the age of fifteen he was taken from school, and 
placed in his father's counting-room. Mr. Jacob 
Bright was a shrewd, yet highly honorable man, 
entirely engrossed in the superintendence of his busi- 
ness, and an adept in the conduct of his manufactory. 
It was his ambition that his sons should follow in his 

footsteps, and should become, like himself, influential 

(29.) 



30 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

members of the commercial community. He doubt- 
less underrated, as the class to which he belonged is 
apt to do in England, the value of a university edu- 
cation ; and as soon as the boys reached the suitable 
age, they were set to work in the mills. Had John 
Bright received the culture which a residence at Ox- 
ford or Cambridge would have afforded him, he would 
doubtless have occupied a place ifi the first rank of 
that group of accomplished statesmen who now grace 
either House of Parliament, and whose elegant erudi- 
tion is as conspicuous as their enlightened statecraft. 
As it was, we find him spending his youth at the 
desk, learning how to buy and seU, and how to rule 
the miniature commonwealth which an Enghsh manu- 
factory presents. In the discharge of these duties he 
proved himself skilful, prompt, and energetic. 

As he grew to manhood, however, a new interest 
and a new ambition awoke within him. He had 
always been more of a thinker than the other mem- 
bers of his family. When scarcely twenty, he had 
addressed the people of Rochdale in favor of tiie great 
Reform of 1832, and with the effect of giving him 
at that early age a local popularity. He had seem- 
ingly thrown his vigorous mind into the study of the 
complex elements of the constitution, with especial 
reference to those parts which affected commerce and 
manufactures. From such studies he had become 
the confirmed disciple of those doctrines which, with 



JOHN BRIGHT. 31 

a narrower view to self-interest, the commercial class 
almost universally adopted. When the passage of 
the Eeform Bill had quieted for a while the agitation 
on that score, Mr. Bright, his interest being now 
thoroughly awakened to the excitements of a public 
career, turned his attention to the temperance ques- 
tion, then much mooted in the larger towns. The 
idea of total abstinence was at that time new to 
Englishmen, and Mr. Bright was one of the ear- 
liest champions of that principle, which has since 
attracted so many powerful orators, and which has 
reclaimed so many from the debasement of the cup. 
In the year '1835, Mr. Bright, with a view to extend- 
ing his experience, and in order to observe the sys- 
tems of other nations, made the tour of the Con- 
tinent, extending his travels to Athens and Palestine. 
On his return, he was invited to lecture before the 
local Institute at Rochdale, and he delivered a series 
of lectures, taking as his subjects the observations he 
had made abroad. These he followed by another 
series on questions more nearly connected with the 
practical interests of his auditors, — putting before 
them with admirable perspicuity the ideas he had 
formed on the commercial policy of England. About 
this time contentions arose respecting the church 
rates, and Mr. Bright took active ground for their 
abolition. 

The sufferings of the manufacturing class now re- 



32 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

vived that agitation against the corn laws which had 
once before engaged the earnest attention of the coun- 
try. Mr. Bright had the patent evidence all around 
him of the misery which the inequitable adjustment 
of the tariff had created. The class over whom he 
had supervision were materially affected by this injus- 
tice. With that promptness which is one of his con- 
spicuous qualities, he devoted himself to the study of 
the science which would open to him the causes, 
consequences, and remedies of the evils which a 
legalized monopoly had brought into existence. He 
found that the landed proprietors, whose influence in 
Parliament had long continued paramount through 
the protection of the Tory party, had secured laws 
which enabled them to enjoy the monopoly of the corn 
trade, to the practical exclusion of foreign competi- 
tion. Prices were thus increased to such an extent 
as to put it beyond the power of factory hands, with 
the wages which their employers could afford to pay 
them, to buy bread. 

The distress of the operatives from this cause was 
already great, and was constantly becoming more 
serious and more alarming. The lower classes of 
England have never been patient under unusual 
pressure. They are prone to take redress by vio- 
lent resistance to law. Thus the agricultural ascen- 
dency threatened to drive the rival element to desper- 
ation. The Tories, led by Welhngton, already 



JOHN BRIGHT. 3 



Q 



obnoxious from their long opposition to reform, 
steadily maintained the existing laws, and continued 
to be the devoted partisans of the landed interest. 
The aristocratic Whigs, who were in power under 
Viscount Melbourne, and who were reaping the fruit 
of a reform carried by the cooperation of popular lead- 
ers , were reluctant to do more than make slio ht mod- 
ifications — modifications which still left the evil 
great and dangerous. At this juncture a new force 
sprang up, which from small beginnings finally ef- 
fected a total revolution in the economical policy of 
the government. This was the Anti-Corn-Law 
League. It was instituted by a number of liberal 
noblemen and gentlemen in Parliament, who had the 
sense to perceive, and the wisdom to provide for, 
the gloomy crisis which seemed to be impending." 
Charles Pelham Yilliers, a son of the Earl of Clar- 
endon, and one of the ablest of the younger genera- 
tion of statesmen, was the most prominent leader. 
The object of the association was to organize a cru- 
sade against agricultural tyranny, and to effect tlie 
abrogation of the odious laws by which farmers grew 
rich by starving manufacturers. As usual with all 
organizations for reform, the League at first met 
with clamorous denunciation from all quarters, was 
sneered at in Parliament, and laughed at by the 
great proprietors. But it grew rapidly. Every day 
people awakened more and more to the increasing 
2* 



34 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

necessity. The champions of the League, spreading 
among the rural communities, eloquently pointed out 
the great evils which they sought to eradicate. They 
were untiring in their exertions, and their success was 
beyond their best hopes. 

The great advantage to be gained by keeping 
their cause in constant agitation before the pub- 
lic, made the Leaguers desh'ous to employ active 
and eloquent orators. John Bright, in his twenty- 
seventh year, began to speak in advocacy of commer- 
cial reform in his own neighborhood. The League 
heard of him, called him to their assistance, and 
he became one of their authorized speakers. This 
was a triumph not a little flattering to a young mer- 
chant whose training had been in a manufactory, and 
to whom the field of forensic eloquence was entirely 
new. He was thoroughly convinced, both from ob- 
servation and from a naturally quick reason, that the 
principles of which he was now to be a public advo- 
cate were just. His whole soul was in the effort to 
alleviate suffering, and to find a balance between 
interests which had been, but were not of necessity, 
conflicting. With that hearty zeal which has ever 
since marked his public career, he entered the politi- 
cal arena, turned over to his partners the affairs of 
the firm, and devoted himself to the study and expo- 
sition of the new commercial theories. Through the 
influence of the League, he obtained opportunities to 



JOHN BBIQET. 35 

speak in many considerable places ; and he every 
day increased his reputation as a vigorous reasoner 
and a pleasing speaker. He went boldly into the 
agricultural districts, vrhere the hard-headed old 
Tories who believed in Wellino-ton formed his au- 

o 

diences, and put to them unwelcome truths, which 
they found it hard to swallow. On one occasion he 
appeared before a large assemblage at Drury Lane 
Theatre, when the effect of his eloquence was such 
that his name became immediately known throughout 
the kingdom. Copies of the speech were distributed 
by order of the League, and Bright found himself in 
demand from all quarters. Working in concert with 
Villiers, Morpeth, and the other leaders, he assisted 
in instituting branches of the League in the principal 
cities. Besides his unquestioned ability as an orator, 
he had one advantage which most of his co-workers 
did not possess, — he was emphatically a man of the 
people. He came out from the busy community in 
which he was born and reared, to labor for the peo- 
ple. Those who might distrust a Villiers or a How- 
ard, — who might suspect that an agitation set on 
foot by noblemen was designed for selfish ends, — 
who might be indifferent to those whom they had 
been accustomed to regard as political schemers, — 
would trust and follow one who threw aside his com- 
mercial vocation, and came forward to sustain that 
commercial interest in which he himself was con- 



36 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

cerned. He could gain the ear and reason of many 
who would not listen to one whose profession was 
political agitation. Thus his influence became con- 
siderable ; his origin reassuring his hearers, his 
eloquence charming them, and his honesty and ear- 
nestness commanding their sympathy and approval. 
The rapid spread of free-trade principles, re- 
sulting from the organized efforts of the League, and 
from the demonstration, which actual occurrences 
confirmed, that the farming monopoly could not con- 
tinue, gave the leaders of the League much impor- 
tance in Parliament. The Whigs, nay, even the 
more moderate Tories, began to profess conversion 
to free-trade doctrines. When Parliament was dis- 
solved in 1841, both parties went to the country on 
the issue of free-trade or protection. Sir Robert 
Peel, who afterwards became the patriotic instrument 
by which the corn laws fell, represented those who 
adhered to protection and the agricultural interest. 
Lord Melbourne came forward as the advocate of 
those principles which the League had been the first 
to avow, and which as premier he had not been 
anxious to put in practice. Notwithstanding the 
reform of 1832, the landed nobility still retained a 
large control in the composition of the House of Com- 
mons. Peel had organized the conservatives with 
great tact, and the ministry of Melbourne was suf- 
fering from the weakness of internal dissension. 



JOHN BRIGHT. 87 

The result of the election was, that Peel's candidates 
were generally successful. He gained a clear work- 
ing majority in the House, and consequently became 
prime minister. 

It was soon after the conservatives thus attained 
office, that John Bright came forward as a candidate 
for Parliament, in the northern city of Durham. 
The free-traders were wise enough to seek the as- 
sistance of the best men their ranks could furnish. 
Bright, it was universally thought, would be a valu- 
able auxiliary, coming as he did from the mercantile 
class, and'possessing a clear mind and ready tongue. 
Durham was conservative by tradition. In 1843 the 
city rejected Bright ; but in 1844, so rapid was the 
growth of Liberalism, that the same constituency 
returned him to the House of Commons by a hand- 
some majority. 

Meanwhile Sir Robert Peel, elected and supported 
jy protectionists, was gradually turning his steps 
towards the more liberal policy which his opponents 
had advocated. Soon after assuming office, he had 
proposed a modification of the tariff. The Duke of 
Buckingham, representing the extreme w^ng of the 
protectionists, resigned in alarm. The premier did 
not falter, but approached still nearer the free-trade 
standard. Lord Stanley, a stronger man than Buck- 
in Q:ham, retired from the council-board. When 
John Bright entered Parliament, Peel was rapidly 



38 • GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

comino^ to the abolition of the corn laws. Brio-ht 
at once mingled in the debates, which now daily ab- 
sorbed the attention of the House, on the one ques- 
tion before the country. The little band of Leaguers 
stood in the front rank of the opposition. They 
were pressing Sir Robert, by steady and oft-repeated 
appeals, to make the final concession. To the voices 
of Villiers, Morpeth, Russell, Gibson, were added 
the sonorous tones of the merchant-orator ; and he 
maintained the debate with the best, whether of 
friends or foes. He reasoned with such clearness, 
he brought the evils of the corn monopoly so vividly 
before the minds of his auditors, he pressed the ne- 
cessity and justice of its abrogation with such power 
of argument, that from that day he took rank as one 
of the first speakers and logicians in the lower 
House. 

Sir Robert soon tlirew aside all party and selfish 
considerations, and did fearlessly what his judgment 
convinced him w^as urgently demanded by the inter- 
ests of the country. He proposed the repeal of the 
com laws. He thus exhibited a rare spirit for an 
English statesman — a spirit of self-sacrifice for the 
public, good. His old associates assailed him with 
bitter, powerful eloquence. The Whigs, whose 
thunder he had stolen, looked with the coldness of 
partisan selfishness upon his conversion to their views. 
But in spite of every discouragement, he carried that 



JOHN BRIGHT. 39 

magnanimous measure through both Houses by his 
influence as first lord of the treasury. Hardly ever 
during the present century has Parliament been more 
electrified by stirring and splendid contests of forensic 
genius, than during these debates on the repeal. 
And in these debates John Bright proved a worthy 
competitor to Disraeli, whose caustic oratory was 
justly feared, — and to Stanley, whose excellence in 
rejoinder made him to be regarded as the equal of 
Fox in extempore debate. 

The fail of Sir Kobert Peel, who could not retain 
power whilst Tories and Whigs were alike arrayed 
against him, was followed by the elevation of Lord 
John Russell and his Whig friends to the ministry. 
Several of the leaders of the League accepted office ; 
but John Bright received no overtures from the new 
premier. No thought of personal ambition, indeed, 
seems to have entered into his views. Possessing 
that independence and fearlessness which men of his 
origin are apt to exhibit, and deeply interested in the 
new field in which he found himself, his sole desire 
seems to have been to arrive at a knowledge of what 
would most benefit his country. In this search he 
rejected all party creeds. He declined to put himself 
under a pledge to abide by the will of a caucus. He 
considered himself bound by no precedent which was 
unjust, committed to no policy which did not have a 
present reason. He was ready to act with the party 



40 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

that sustained, in each individual case, the measure 
which he considered right ; nor would he hesitate to 
vote with those with whom he usually found himself 
at variance, if thej brought forward measures which 
his judgment approved. 

At the time Lord Russell came into power, Mr. 
Bright was regarded as opposed to the established 
church and to the House of Lords, as favorable to a 
system of general suffrage, and as decidedly anti-mo- 
narcliical in political theory. With opinions so radi- 
cal the aristocratic Whigs were the last to have any 
sympathy. They were much less likely to encourage 
that class of politicians than their old antagonists, 
the Tories. The reason is evident. Radicalism, by 
startling the masses by the novelty of its doctrines, 
and thus driving a large majority to seek certain 
safety under the protection of the Tories, had kept 
the Whigs out of Whitehall for half a century. 
John Wilkes and Home Tooke secured Pitt in his 
power. Francis Burdett and his confederates faith- 
fully served Liverpool. If Lord Russell should 
recognize the later Radicals by calling one of their 
leaders to his counsels, he might well fear a defection 
far outweighing the acquisition. Thus Mr. Bright, 
an active participant in the contest for free trade, 
which had just resulted in a complete victory, cheer- 
fully continued to be simply an independent com- 
moner, representing the constituency of Durham, — 



JOHN BBIQHT. 41 

free to judge, and to speak his honest thought, — at 
liberty to advocate reforms more thorough than min- 
isters dared to propose, — ready to represent the 
feelings and wants of that great multitude of Eng- 
lishmen to whom the time-worn restrictions of the 
franchise prohibited a voice in the government, — 
anxious to keep ideas in agitation which needed stout 
hearts and steady heads to maintain them in exist- 
ence. 

In 1847, the ministers having caused his defeat as 
member for Durham, he became the successful con- 
testant for the seat for Manchester. This metropolis 
of manufacture was then the centre, as it is now, of 
extreme liberal notions. The fame of Mr. Bright, 
who had gone forth into public life from its imme- 
diate neighborhood, was grateful to a district which 
sorely needed such an advocate. He continued to 
represent Manchester through the Parliament which 
sustained and finally ousted Lord John Russell. In 
1852, when, the premier, joining issue with Lord 
Derby (formerly Lord Stanley) , went to the country, 
Mr. Bright again stood for Manchester, and was 
gratified by receiving a majority of eleven hundred. 
It was the just reward of labors incessant and coura- 
geous, to keep the interests of the constituency 
always before the legislature, and to bring about that 
system of equality to which they were thoroughly 
devoted. Mr. Bright continued to represent Man- 



42 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

Chester until 1857, During the session of that year, 
the late Mr. Cobden, the earnest co-worker with Mr. 
Bright, brought forward a motion condemnatory of 
the Chinese war, then transpiring under the conduct 
of Lord Palmerston's government. The House 
divided ag-ainst the minister. The Radicals and 
Conservatives were in a majority. Palmerston dis- 
solved Parliament, and appealed to the nation. 
Bright once more went before his constituents, on 
the issue of war or peace with China. His notions 
respecting the iniquity of war in general, which re- 
sulted from his Quaker education, and his opinion 
that this attack on the Celestial Empire was especially 
unjustifiable, were not welcome to the electors of 
Manchester. His opponent, like himself a radical 
Whig, but an advocate of the war, was returned by 
five thousand votes. In 1859, Palmerston being 
again forced to the expedient of a new election, Mr. 
Bright was invited to stand as a candidate for the 
constituency of Birmingham, by whom he was re- 
turned to Parliament, where he has since continued 
to represent them. Here he has been very active in 
the advocacy of his own peculiar doctrines, some of 
which have within a few years gained much in public 
estimation. Independent of all parties, he votes 
usually with the ministry, but sometimes follows 
Mr. Disraeli and Lord Stanley below the bar on a 
division of the House. 



JOHN BRIGHT. 43 

This record of eighteen years in the House of 
Commons is certainly a remarkable one. While 
constantly opposing both of the great parties, Mr. 
Bright has won the respect of all. His ability as a 
logician and as an effective speaker, and his evident 
honesty and earnestness of purpose, are conceded by 
every one. The courage and persistency with which 
he has upheld unpopular doctrines compel the admi- 
ration of those who recoil from the chano^es which he 
seeks to eifect. It is not too much to say that his 
character has greatly enhanced the influence of those 
for whom he acts, and of whom he is the unques- 
tioned leader. The Radicals were a mere handful 
when Bright entered Parliament. They are now 
beginning to be feared. Several of the largest and 
most prosperous cities regularly send Radical mem- 
bers to Westminster. Some of the profoundest 
thinkers in England arQ inclined to admit that the 
time is approaching when Radical ideas shall become 
practical. Many of them already declare these ideas 
to be abstractly just. The English are getting ac- 
customed to Radical doctrines. In due time they will 
be ready to pass a fair judgment upon them. 

The progressive party in a nation too often pos- 
sesses leaders who, being low-born, are coarse and 
lawless, or who seek to foster discontent by an artful 
demagoguism. A good cause is often discounte- 
nanced and rendered futile by reason of the igno- 



44 GL1MP8E8 OF HISTORY. 

ranee or wickedness of those who have been promi- 
nent in its advocacy. John Wilkes and Thomas 
Paine scandalized the cause of progress in their time 
by the profligacy of their lives and the badness of 
their motives. So did Robespierre and Danton by 
the cruel ambition which actuated them. The char- 
acter of such men naturally frightened people of 
honest intentions from their leadership ; while the 
extremities to which they carried their views deterred 
men of practical sense from upholding them. The 
reformers of the present generation, however, exhibit 
traits which command respect. They pursue a course 
which, if not altogether moderate or suited to the 
times, is evidently grounded upon deductions of 
thoughtful reason. 

If we were to compress the description of Mr. 
Bright's character into a few words, we should say 
he was honest, earnest, fearless, eloquent. He is 
honest ; for he casts aside the objects of personal 
ambition in a life devotion to an unpopular cause. 
He is earnest ; for he is constant to his faith, untiring 
in the effort to instil it into the community. He is 
fearless, — morally fearless ; for he permits no obsta- 
cle, no obloquy, no powerful antagonism, to check 
him in the expression of unwelcome thoughts. He 
is eloquent ; inasmuch as he stands up amid the 
silence of the most critical and restless legislature in 
the world, and compels members to listen, without 



JOHN BBICtET. 45 

interruption, to ideas which, in the opinion of the vast 
majority, are hateful and destructive. His character, 
as it has been displayed by a consistent public record, 
bears the stamp of truth and ingenuousness. He is 
candid, almost to a fault. He has no subtle state- 
craft ; he recognizes no code of expediency. He is 
impatient of that spirit which actuates statesmen , as a 
class, to sacrifice something of good for the practical 
attainment even of a worthy end — a spirit which, 
for our own part, we cannot wholly disapprove. 
While as a business man his integrity is perfectly 
unimpeachable, as a legislator his opponents have 
only to fear his strong and indignant eloquence : 
they are safe from any thrust which is not open and 
manly. He was not destined to become a great 
statesman : he is too rash, too little tolerant of an- 
tagonistic opinion, too much inclined to absolute 
conclusions, too open by nature in giving expression 
to his thoughts. In the demolishing process which 
properly precedes, in a long-established polity, the 
constructing process, he has every quality which 
would fit him to be a leader. His Quaker blood is 
of little avail in making him sit in patience whilst 
deep social wrongs stare him in the face on every 
side. The uprising of the people, especially that 
peaceable uprising to which the English people are 
by nature and precedent inclined to resort, seeking to 
cure by prompt action what statesmanship has failed 



46 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

to mend, would give him the best of opportunities. 
Quaker though he is, he would revel in taking the 
van of a lawful reformation aimed at the abuses he 
hates so heartily. So far as the expunging of an 
iniquitous law from the statute-book goes, his work 
would be well done ; but when the time came to fill 
up the page with a new and just enactment, it would 
be his part to yield to more deliberate and judicious 
counsels. Like Lord Brougham, he is great in 
opposition. He can defend well ; he can attack far 
better. Aggressive warfare is his forte. He is as 
positive in his theological and social as in his political 
opinions. He is a practical philanthropist, leads a 
life of strict probity and temperance, and seeks his 
pleasure, as well as his duty, in benefiting the 
human race. He carries the nervousness and en- 
thusiasm of his public displays into the amenities of 
private life. Hearty in his friendships, and affable 
in social intercourse, he is liked by most persons, and 
respected by all. He possesses in a remarkable de- 
gree that faculty which is considered as the trait of 
an accomplished gentleman — the faculty of putting 
you at once at your ease. In temperament impul- 
sive, he is perhaps too little mindful of the feelings 
of others, and somewhat careless of his expressions 
when pursuing a subject in which his attention is 
engrossed. In his manner there is a blunt sincerity 
which one who is in his company for the first time is 



JOHN BRiaMT. 47 

apt to mistake almost for ill temper. It, however, 
results from his entirely candid disposition, his rigidly 
practical and business education, and his carelessness 
of forms, — by no means from a want of kindliness, 
or an intention to be discourteous. 

A first glance gives one a very good impression of 
Mr. Bright's character. He is of medium height, a 
little inclined to corpulency, and quick and nervous 
in his movements. His eye is full of intelligence, — 
small, bright, and sharp, apparently powerful to read 
another through the countenance. Its expression is, 
perhaps, a little hard ; it seems to search your thought, 
and to detect the bent of your mind. His face is a 
true British face, — round and full, with firmly-set 
mouth, positive chin, and that peculiar sort of hau- 
teur which is a national characteristic. His hair, 
somewhat gray, is brushed off his forehead, which is 
broad and admirably proportioned ; and he wears 
whiskers on the side of his face, like most middle- 
a^ed Eno^lishmen. His voice is clear, his enuncia- 
tion rapid, yet distinct, and his choice of words exact, 
— excellent, indeed, for one self-educated in the cor- 
rect use of language. 

Mr. Bright is very attractive as an orator. When 
it is known that he is to speak, the galleries are in- 
sufficient to hold the multitude which gathers to hear 
him. -His delivery is prompt and easy. He has 
none of that hesitation and apparent timidity wbicK 



48 GLIMPSES OF HIS TOE r, 

mark the address of many English orators ; but 
neither, on the Other hand, does he possess that 
rich and fascinatino; intonation which forces us to con- 
cede the forensic pahn to Mr. Gladstone of all con- 
temporary Englishmen. He expresses himself with 
boldness, sometimes almost with rudeness. His dec- 
lamation is fresh, vigorous, and almost always even. 
At times he is unable to preserve the moderation of 
language and manner which retains the mastery over 
impulse ; his indignation carries him away ; his de- 
nunciation becomes overwhelming ; his full voice 
rings out, trembling with agitation, as he exposes 
some wrongful or defends some good measure : then 
his vigorous nature appears, unadorned by cultivated 
graces, but admirable for its manliness and strength. 
This impetuosity, which is so prominent a character- 
istic of his oratory, is in marked contrast with the 
manner of the late Mr. Cobden, his friend and coop- 
erator. Mr. Cobden was always guarded, cautious, 
and studiously accurate, in his language. Mr. 
Bright often says things, in the excitement of con- 
troversy, which exaggerate his real sentiments, and 
which may be used to misrepresent his opinions. 
Mr. Cobden, whose temperament was more phleg- 
matic, was careful to avoid any undue heat of speech, 
and hence often passed, erroneously, for a more mod- 
erate thinker than Mr. Bright. 

It is with pleasure that we turn for a moment to 



JOHN BRIGHT. 49 

speak of Mr. Bright's course towards America, and 
especially while we were suflPering under the plague 
of civil war. Ever since he entered public life, his 
admiration of our institutions and history has been 
frequently the subject of his discourse. * He has not 
hesitated to declare that feeling when he must have 
been aware how unwelcome it was to the greater part 
of his countrymen. He has, indeed, recognized in 
our success the practical attainment of those views to 
which he has so long been devoted, and which his 
experience as a public man seems only to have con- 
^rmed. His magnanimous mind has scornfully re- 
jected that too prevalent English characteristic — 
envy at the growing power of a sister nation. He 
has only seen in our progress a benefit and an exam- 
ple to mankind. As such he has gloried in it, and 
not the less because we are a kindred race and an 
offshoot from British civilization. The fact that we 
have been the inheritors and partakers of the glories 
of the English nation, which seems to increase the 
asperity with which many EngKsh statesmen now 
regard us, is to Mr. Bright a greater reason why 
sympathy should be extended to us. His speeches 
on America manifest a thorough knowledge of our 
history and of the spirit of our Constitution. He 
has studied us in the earnest desire to know and 
beheve the truth, and faithfully to present to others 
the results of his study. We do not think it extrav- 
3 



50 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

agant to say that few of our own public men evince a 
more intelligent knowledge of our record than Mr. 
Bright : certainly in this respect he is far in advance 
of the leading English statesmen. When, in 1861, 
the rebellion broke out, Mr. Bright raised his voice 
boldly against the non-committal policy of England 
in declaring herself neutral. He seemed to compre- 
hend at once the causes of the war. He correctly 
regarded the North as really on the defensive, — de- 
fending the integrity of the nation. He saw the 
cause of republican liberty trembling in the balance. 
From that day to this, — at times when public indig- 
nation ran so high in England that it was almost 
dangerous to justify the North, — at times when to 
avow Northern sentiments was to be met with a howl 
from Spithead to the Firth of Forth, — at times when 
his own supporters, the manufacturing and commer- 
cial classes, feeling sore over th.e want of cotton, 
bitterly complained, and pleaded for intervention, — 
John Bright has been our constant, zealous, and fear- 
less champion, braving all England in our cause, and 
never silent when we were to be vindicated. In the 
issue of the war Mr. Bright will see the fruition of 
the hopes of the lovers of liberty everywhere. He 
will rejoice in it as the successful assertion by nation- 
al power of those principles which he has devoted his 
life to advocating. To his mind the assassination of 
Lincoln will appear as the legitimate fruit of Southern 



JOHN BRIGHT. 51 

treason. We may be sure, that, whilst the press of 
England endeavors to divert the guilt of this atrocity 
from the heads which gave birth to it, there is 
one Eno^lishman at least — that Enc^lishman John 
Bright — who will be bold to trace it to its proper 
source. 

We can do no better than to close this notice 
by quoting the conclusion of a speech made by 
Mr. Bright in December, 1861, to which our at- 
tention has been called during the preparation of 
this article. 

"Whether the Union will be restored or not, or 
the South will achieve an unhonored independence 
or not, I know not, and I predict not. But this I 
think I know, that in a few years — a very few years, 
the twenty millions of freemen in the North will be 
thirty millions or fifty millions — a population equal 
to or exceeding that of this kingdom. When that 
time comes, I pray it may not be said among them, 
that, in the darkest hour of their country's trials, 
England, the land of their fathers, looked on with 
icy coldness, and saw unmoved the perils and 
calamities of her children. As for me, I have but 
this to say : I am one in this audience, and but one 
in the citizenship of this country ; but if all other 
tongues are silent, mine shall speak for that policy 
which gives hope to the bondmen of the South, and 
tends to generous thoughts and generous words and 



52 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

generous deeds between the two great nations who 
speak the English language, and from their origin 
are alike entitled to the English name," 

Let Americans honor the Englishman who spoke 
thus nobly ! 



III. 

THE OPENING SCENES OF THE REBELLION. 

"FTP to the fall of 1860, the republic in which we 
^ live had prospered beyond the most sanguine 
hopes of its projectors, and beyond the most exagger- 
ated fears of its enemies. The years, as they passed, 
brought us renewed evidence that we lived under the 
peculiar favor, and were blessed with the gracious 
beneficence, of the great Ruler of rulers. At first, 
to all a doubtful, and to many a visionary experiment, 
our people began to congratulate themselves, as time 
lengthened history, that they had at last attained a 
system perfect in its symmetry and vigor, and the 
stronghold of intelligent independence. We had be- 
come great in every department of civilization : in the 
justice and equity of our laws, in the efiiciency of 
our political powers, in the surprising progress of 
education, in the establishment of a high public 
morality, in a sagacious and discerning appreciation 
of art, in the encouragement of all the varied reforms 
of science, in the rich and exuberant growth of litera- 
ture, in the universal dissemination of religious light. 

(53) 



54 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

Every guarantee of liberty had reached, in our com- 
monwealth, approximate' perfection. Our indepen- 
dence of foreign nations was established ; the press 
was free ; men used speech without the thraldom 
with which fear of insurrection had compelled more 
arbitrary powers to restrain the expression of thought ; 
the trial by jury, the habeas corpus, the independence 
of judges, the right of petition, free communion, 
locomotion and emigration, the right to worship ac- 
cording to one's own conscience, publicity of trial, 
the right of association, popular taxation, had all 
assumed the proportions of an enduring political 
fabric. Foreign potentates admitted our envoys to 
high positions in their rolls of precedence ; and 
majestic vessels, with the American bunting floating 
from their masts, dotted every considerable port of 
both hemispheres. The partisans of concentrated 
nationalities looked with suspicion and dread upon a 
people who, for the first time in the history of the 
world, had successfully refuted the despotic doctrines 
of Metternich and Hildebrand. From our example, 
the oppressed nations of the continent derived enthu- 
siasm and hope to achieve a like independence for 
themselves. 

The United States were in a full career of advance- 
ment, and the people were never so proud of the past 
or hopeful of the future, when the ordeal through 
which we have been passing came slowly upon us. 



OPENING SCENES OF THE BEBELLION. 55 

The nation, as they had done eighteen times before, 
repaired to the ballot-box on the 4th of November, 
to choose once more a representative of their sover- 
eign power; and although mutterings were heard 
throughout the campaign, as of discontent and re- 
sistance, all went to the polls with confidence, and 
buoyed up with the hope that no detriment could fol- 
low the just exercise of an inherent right. Those 
who were ill-wishers of the Union were accounted few 
and despicable. Surely, men reasoned, no powerful 
combination will essay to subvert a system for the 
loss of power, the security of which has made it an 
example to all nations. Surely no one who has been 
reared under its wide and gracious protection, will 
turn, like the viper in the fable, and poison the 
breast which has given him the most generous nour- 
ishment. 

But while we were lulled into fatal repose, the con- 
spkators against our peace were assembled under the 
dome of the national Capitol. In Congress, in the ex- 
ecutive council, in many civil, military, and maritime 
trusts, were the accomplices of this foul conspiracy 
concealed ; and while enjoying the bounty of national 
patronage, they were devising the annihilation of the 
common benefactor of all. The election of Abraham 
Lincoln as president was the signal for the openino- 
act of the monster scheme, — monstrous in its masr- 
nitude, in its motive, in its arrangement, in the de- 



56 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBY. 

fiance of every dictum of absolute or relative right. 
One section was aroused by menace, by casuistical 
argument, by appeals to local pride, and by every 
subtle art which bad men know so well how to use, 
and from which supreme wickedness does not shrink. 
Their unprincipled leaders assumed with more 
audacity the true consequences of their theories, 
and began to engage earnestly in the accomplishment 
of their long-contemplated scheme. The President 
of the United States became the ready dupe of their 
specious deceptions. The secretaries of the treas- 
ury, of war, and of the interior became zealous 
coadjutors of the plot. The finances of the govern- 
ment were employed with a view to promote their 
secret schemes. The secretary of war, a man of 
inferior ability, but of refined viliany, imported arms 
and munitions into the arsenals of the South, and 
appointed his own myrmidons to the most eminent 
posts of the army corps. The secretary of the 
navy, either culpable as being indifferent, or as being 
an accessory, disposed the maritime power so that it 
should at all events be powerless to aid the govern- 
ment. And but for the admirable devotion of one 
man, whose zeal for the salvation of his country 
called forth the veneration and love of all patriot 
hearts, — but for Joseph Holt, — the whole machin- 
ery of the executive would have assisted in the de- 
struction of the nation which they governed. 



OPENING SCENES OF THE REBELLION. 57 

In the Senate of the United States, the champions 
of the conspiracy began to avow and defend the revo- 
lutionary maxims which they had already begun to 
put in practice. The doctrines of secession were 
audaciously advanced and secretly practised. State 
after state followed in startling succession the bold 
lead of South Carolina ; and their representatives 
began to retire from both Houses of Congress, not 
omitting the opportunity to denounce the government 
in malio^nant and treacherous anathemas. The writer 
was present in the Senate when the farewell speeches 
of the secedinsr members were delivered. The coarse 
fury of Iverson and Toombs, the passionate tirade of 
Clay, the drunken and ghastly jests of Wigfall, the 
cold, remorseless satire of Benjamin, the insidious 
appeals of Hunter and Mason, and the more calm 
and subtle eloquence of Jefferson Davis, celebrated 
the dawn of an insurrection surpassing in its magni- 
tude that of Cromwell, and more causeless and 
hateful than that of Catiline against Rome. The 
loyal senators were constrained to sit in silence hour 
after hour, under the traitorous insinuations of the 
enemies of the republic. But they were not be- 
trayed, even by so enormous a provocation, into any 
rash experiment or lawless act. Those who had be- 
fore hoped against hope for a settlement of the 
great evil, now abandoned such ideas as futile ; and 
for the first time the eyes of patriots were fairly 
3* 



58 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

opened to the desperate earnestness of the disaffected 
states. The loyalists in Congress, however, could 
but wait for the accession of the new executive, for 
the remedies which alone could heal the gigantic dis- 
temper. This was the state of our national affairs 
when the day of inauguration approached. 

Meanwhile the personal safety of the president 
elect was threatened ; the malcontent politicians 
about the bar-rooms of Washington and Baltimore 
began to cast out significant hints, and plots were 
discovered which placed the danger of the president 
beyond a suspicion. Troops w^ere ordered to the 
Federal city to quell any disturbance which might 
arise on the 4th of March. Mr. Lincoln, pru- 
dently advised, stole a march on his enemies at Bal- 
timore, and came through the hostile city protected 
by the shades of night. 

The great day on which Abraham Lincoln was to 
assume the trust, now very momentous, imposed upon 
him by the suffrage of the people, came at last ; and 
many arose, on that memorable morning, with fore- 
bodings, lest nightfall should close upon some stu- 
pendous calamity. In the metropolis, thousands 
were astir at an early hour. Troops and officers 
were seen passing from one point to another, and 
messengers galloping in all directions. Towards 
noon, great masses of human beings thronged the 
sidewalks, roofs, balconies, and the vast area be- 



OPENING SCENES OF THE REBELLION 59 

neath the eastern portico of the Capitol. In the 
Senate-chamber were gathered the most illustrious 
of the land. The spectacle which that scene pre- 
sented must have struck every cultivated and imagi- 
native mind which beheld it. All the interest which 
commonly belongs to the occasion was superadded to 
the special interest which was contributed by the con- 
dition of the country and the danger of the hour. 
The new hall of the Senate, decorated with more 
taste and modesty than that of the lower House, 
presented its best appearance. The senators, 
headed by the young and handsome vice-presi- 
dent, entered two by two, in dignified procession. 
The judges of the Supreme Court attended, robed in 
their garb of office. The ambassadors of European 
monarchs, decorated with their orders, and brilliant 
with gold lace and jewels, were there to witness a 
ceremony surpassing in solemnity and dignity the 
vain pomp of their own countries. 

The long and spacious galleries were crowded with 
an audience such as is seldom the lot of man to wit- 
ness. There were gathered from all corners of " a 
great, enlightened, and prosperous empire, grace and 
female loveliness, wit and beauty," the fair daughters 
of the North and the dark daughters of the South. 

After the delay of administering the oath of office 
to the new vice-president, the procession slowly 
wound from the Senate-chamber to the eastern por- 



60 GLIMPSES OF BISTORT. 

tico. The swarthy form and dark features of the 
president elect were presently visible, and beside him, 
in strong contrast with his own person, the rotund 
figure and snowy- white hair of his retiring predeces- 
sor. Then followed. the long train of illustrious per- 
sons, the venerable and feeble chief justice,* the 
in-coming and out-going vice-presidents, the large- 
bodied speaker,! the short form of the lamented 
Douglas, and a multitude of others of national fame. 
Those who enjoyed the rare felicity of being present 
at that memorable scene will never forget the im- 
pressive moment when the incoming executive ad- 
vanced to address his auditors. In an instant the 
buzz which the appearance of the procession had 
called forth was hushed ; all eyes were fixed and all 
ears intent upon the illustrious speaker. The presi- 
dent, after calmly surveying the exciting scene around 
him, produced his manuscript, and in a clear, firm 
voice, and in a simple, yet powerfully eloquent ca- 
dence, proceeded to announce the views which were 
to actuate the policy of the new government. 
Throuohout he was listened to with breathless atten- 
tion, interrupted only by the spontaneous applause 
which the more forcible points of the oration called 
forth. Those who heard him will never forget the 
impressive earnestness and pathos with which he ut 
tered the closing passage of his peroration : — 

* Taney. t Pennington. 



OPENING SCENES OF THE REBELLION. 61 

" The mystic call of memory, stretching from every 
battle-field and patriot grave to every living heart 
and hearth-stone all over this broad land, w^ill yet 
svrell the chords of the Union when again touched, 
as surely they will be, by the better angels of our 
nature." 

When he had finished, the venerable chief justice 
arose, and holding forth the Bible, on which the 
president placed his right hand, pronounced, the 
president repeating after him, the oath appropriate to 
the occasion. Then the procession re-formed, and 
the new executive hastened to the White House, 
where the doors were thrown open to the citizens, 
who hastened to pay their congratulations on the 
successful event of the day. 

We will not detain the reader with a recital of the 
startling events which passed in rapid sequence after 
the accession of the late administration. The proc- 
lamation of the president, calling for seventy-five 
thousand volunteers, and apportioning to each state 
its appropriate quota, was the remote cause of the 
five days' reign of terror of which it is proposed to 
speak. The response to this proclamation through- 
out the North was spontaneous ; all men now, for 
the -first time in the history of the country, summoned 
to defend a direct attempt at the destruction of the 
Union, began to bestir themselves with zeal and ac- 
tivity. Pennsylvania, being near at hand, threw the 



62 GLIMPSES OF mSTOBT. 

first troops into the Federal city ; and Massachusetts, 
possessing neither the advantage of proximity nor 
of easy transportation, to her glory be it said, was 
the second state whose flag was unfurled on the 
scene of danger. But that noble band were doomed 
to experience the first encounter of the campaign 
before they came to their destination. The first 
martyrs fell at Baltimore. 

The insurrectionary character of that city now dis- 
played itself, and the loyal soldiery of Massachusetts 
were assaulted by a desperate and lawless rabble as 
they were passing through its streets. Till the last 
necessity, the officers, with a magnanimity in strange 
contrast with the acts of their assailants, refused to 
open fire ; and it was not till some of the noble 
spirits who had obeyed the first summons of their 
country had fallen before the rocks and bludgeons of 
the ruffian mob, that a repulse was ordered. The 
demon of anarchy now revelled in the streets of Bal- 
timore and throughout the country between Washing- 
ton and the Susquehanna. The citizens were held in 
terror by a multitude of ignorant and savage men, 
who thronged the streets, armed with every destruc- 
tive weapon which art or nature had put within tlieir 
reach. The warehouses of merchants were pillaged, 
private residences were attacked, and the municipal 
and state authorities were forced, for personal safety, 
to bend to the tempest which had demolished every 



OPENING SCENES OF THE BEBELLION. 63 

trace of law and order. Nor were the ravages of 
the mob confined to the city limits. Bands of mal- 
contents ranged over the country, keeping loyalists 
in awe, burning bridges, tearing up railroads, and 
spreading dismay everywhere. 

At this time Washington was almost defenceless. 
On one side lay the hostile shore of Virginia, on the 
other a terror-stricken city, ruled by a mob holding 
back supplies, communication, and troops, who alone 
could protect the capital from the rebels. It was 
supposed that already an organized force was in 
readiness to march upon Washington from the south- 
west. Of the troops in the city, a large • majority 
were the district militia ; of these fully one half were 
regarded as sympathizers with the rebellion, which 
subsequent events proved a well-grounded suspicion. 
No men-of-war lay in the navy yard to convey intel- 
ligence of our situation by water. The streets were 
crowded with men conjecturing and discussing, and 
business yielded entirely to this novel and startling 
dilemma. Those of the citizens who were inclined to 
secession alone were exultant. Their triumphant air 
on this occasion was arrogant and malignant. Many 
who had before held their opinions secretly, now 
openly avowed their hostility to the Union. 

Such of these malcontents as found their position 
and the safety of their families precarious in the 
metropolis, removed, with such of their effects as 



64 GLIMPSES OF BISTORT. 

could be transferred, into Virginia. Many secret 
bands of traitors, who had been driUing and exer- 
cising in the martial art, hastened to join the more 
powerful military posts in Eastern Virginia. All the 
while these incidents were occurring, Washington 
was entirely destitute of mails, troops, or even parole 
communication with the North. Saturday was spent 
in vain conjectures, in startling rumors, and in 
gloomy forebodings. Even those who were known 
to be in the intimate confidence of the highest offi- 
cials could hold out no encouragement against the 
fear of irresistible invasion, and the destruction which 
would not fail to ensue. The suspense may well be 
imagined. To be in hourly fear of the appearance 
of an exasperated foe ; to be confined in a city 
utterly defenceless, shut out, as much as if they were 
in the midst of Sahara, from all access to friendly 
succor ; to go to bed at night half expecting to be 
awakened by the booming of cannon and the clash 
of conflict in the very streets ; to know that, if the 
enemy did come, they would bring with them the 
torch and the firebrand with which to devastate the 
city ; to be subjected to the repeated threats and ex- 
ultations of open-mouthed miscreants, who looked 
forward with savage impatience to the consummation 
of the impending calamities, — to be thus swayed 
between every dread and every misgiving for five 
days, was a trial which might well elicit the efforts 
of the stoutest hearts to undergo with calmness. 



OPENING SCENES OF THE REBELLION, 65 

On Sunday the clergy prayed to be delivered from 
battle and murder, and preached forbearance in trials, 
fortitude in danger, and resignation under calamity. 
The day of rest was noticed with peculiar solemnity 
and quiet, but was not passed without its proportion 
of harassing rumors and false alarms. On Monday 
the president declared, in a private interview, that 
he had not heard from the troops north of Baltimore 
since the riot; that he found it impossible to convey 
intellio-ence of the condition of the city to the friends 
*of the government ; and that, in his opinion, if the 
city was not relieved in three days, it would fall into 
the hands of the conspirators. Such an opinion 
from such a quarter could not but confirm in the 
highest degree the fears already entertained, and 
shake the confidence of those who had before made 
lio'ht of the danoer. The commandant of the navy 
yard, and other mihtary officers holding positions of 
the first importance, resigned, and departed in peace 
to the hostile state adjacent. The secessionist citi- 
zens grew more and more impatient for the crisis, 
and every one looked forward to an almost certain 
invasion. So continued the miserable suspense two 
days longer. And now vague reports began to be 
heard of troops coming to the deliverance of the 
city ; and several times the rumor ran like wildfire 
that they had actually arrived. 

Finally, on Wednesday afternoon, a little before 



66 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

sundown, when the citizens were about to give over 
every shadow of hope, and when destruction seemed 
inevitable, their weary eyes were rejoiced by the 
cheerful sight of bayonets and the flag of the Union. 
The seventh regiment of New York, after a dis- 
tressing and most wearisome march in heat, rain, and 
mud, through a meagre and difficult country, now 
marched into the city and up the broad avenue, their 
band discoursing beautiful music, the United States 
flag and that of New York waving side by side, 
bayonets glistening in the reflection of the declining * 
sunlight, and the uniform and stately tramp of the 
companies eliciting a responsive echo in the hearts 
of the grateful multitude which greeted them. 

Never was hopeless despair succeeded by more 
fervent joy. The young and the old of both sexes 
flooded the streets, greeting the preservers of the 
capital with every token of admiration and gratitude. 
Thus was the capital saved, and great calamities 
averted. 




IV. 

THE LAST OF THE STUARTS. 

"AD it not been that the protectorate of CromweU 
was succeeded by two reigns pecuHarly aggra- 
vating to the people, England might still have been 
sleeping in the lethargy which is the natural effect of 
despotism. Had Charles the Second been a trifle more 
regardful of the interests he governed, and James 
the Second a Kttle less determined in attempting to 
force a despised religion upon his people, an imbe- 
cile and capricious Stuart might this day have con- 
troUed the destinies of the British empire. British 
liberty did not derive its vigor directly from the 
violent Puritanism which marked the ascendency of 
the commonwealth. It was rather the reaction 
which followed, the natural result of Puritanism, 
which at last woke the masses to an effort for 
liberty. 

Cromwell's policy became a by-word; the rigid 
Puritan became the laughing-stock even of the 
prelacy and clergy ; the strict prohibition of all pub- 
lic amusement had produced a reactive tendency 

(67) 



68 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

towards the grossest disregard of public and private 
morals. The straisrht coat of the Puritan was 
changed for the gaudy frock of the Cavalier ; churches 
were converted into theatres and brothels, in the 
highest degree obnoxious to every sense of decorum. 
Instead of the stern homilies which had absorbed 
the entire industry of tjie press during the common- 
wealth, the book-shops now teemed with dramas, 
libels, and novels, more offensive and scurrilous than 
have ever emanated from any other source, or any 
other age. Such, in fact, was the intensity of the 
reaction, that the few who still dared to avow their 
adherence to the doctrines of the Protector, were in 
daily terror lest they should become the victims of 
a mob. Algernon Sydney and Lord William Eussell 
became martyrs to their cause. 

Even during the reign of Charles, the antagonism 
to the Cromwellian dogmas had not reached its 
climax. It remained for James, an avowed cham- 
pion of the Pomish creed, to complete the degrada- 
tion of England, by bidding a fatal defiance to the 
religious scruples of the people. And even when 
the monarch could not but perceive the premonitions 
of the approaching storm, and murmurings from 
every quarter struck his ministers with terror, he did 
not hesitate to make his past provocation still more 
enormous, and to force on with still more dogged 
arrogance his purpose of Catholic ascendency. If 



THE LAST OF TEE STUARTS. 69 

James had been content to feel the pulse of his 
people through his Parliaments, corrupt as those 
Parliaments undoubtedly were, he might have saved 
them the trouble of banishing him to St. Germain's. 

The most obstinate of Puritan Parliaments had 
been succeeded by the most servile of Tory Parlia- 
ments. Charles was welcomed to the throne of his 
ancestors by the election of a Parliament ready to go 
to every length in supporting the prerogative. Of 
course corruption and moral decrepitude followed ; 
the people began to open their eyes. The Parlia- 
ments of Charles grew less and less disposed to yield 
to incessant demands upon their forbearance, until 
finally they began to look with jealous eye upon the 
probable accession of his Catholic brother. But so 
solemn a decree was issued by James upon his ac- 
cession, reiterating again and again his purpose to 
abide by existing law, to protect the rights of the 
commons, to hide the religious zealot in the patriot 
monarch, to cherish, protect, and defend every hal- 
lowed precedent which had received the sanction of 
the governed, that another Tory Parliament, hardly 
less obsequious than that which had greeted his 
brother, now welcomed him to the possession. 

The lessons of the preceding reign were lost upon 
him, and the same alienation of Parliament from 
king which had followed in Charles's case, now began 
to undermine the throne of James. The reaction 



70 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

reached its climax. It was an instance in which the 
enemies of freedom have hastened its achievement 
sooner than its most ardent friends dared to hope for. 
It was an instance in which a despot, by his own 
blindness, rushed headlong over the very precipice 
which it had been his study to avoid. It was an 
instance in which a whole people became gradually 
convinced, by the self-condemning logic of a tyrant, 
that their first victory must be in his ruin. 

It may well be doubted, whether if James's reign 
had not been, there would have been a revolution. 
Certain it is that that reign hastened a revolution. 
The people might have been afraid to again intrust 
themselves in the hands of those who had sustained 
Cromwell in his usurpation. They might have re- 
volted at the idea that they were again to submit to 
the stern decrees which forbade innocent amuse- 
ments ; which ordained a peculiar habit ; which, while 
pretending toleration, compelled conformity to a creed 
which was deadly hostile to the EstabKshment. It 
might have been, and without doubt would have 
been, a long and tremendous struggle which could 
have forced the people to abandon the ease, the in- 
dulgence, the general apathy, which, before and after 
Cromwell, characterized their mode of life. Such a 
change, under ordinary circumstances, could not 
have been sudden. It was not until they had been 
goaded on by systematic outrage, until they had dis- 



THE LAST OF THE STUARTS. 71 

covered that every secular or sacred right which they 
now possessed must soon be wrested from them, by 
that very power which should have strained every 
nerve to sustain and protect them, that the sudden, 
radical, and almost reckless change took place. 

And yet this result was not achieved by the energy 
of a single man. To pretend that William of 
Orange was the sole regenerator of the British con- 
stitution would be as preposterous as to attribute an 
equally great achievement to George of Hanover. 
The former was, like the latter, an instrument 
through whom the constitution was purified and 
ennobled ; through whom vital remedies eradicated 
grave evils ; through whom liberal ideas supplanted, 
not without a struggle, a superstition which divines 
and statesmen of former times had agreed in pro- 
nouncing sacred. True, the Dutch prince combined 
all the qualities which on this occasion facilitated 
the success of the anti-Stuart party. He possessed 
energy, boldness, personal dignity, a sense of the 
importance of his mission, and the moral effect of a 
triumph of his cause. But James was the uncon- 
scious and unwilling accuser of his own dynasty, 
and it was through this paradoxical medium that 
Great Britain grew into freedom. 

William of Orange sprang up, as Peter in Russia, 
Charles in Sweden, Frederick in Prussia, Napoleon 
in France, and Washington in America sprang up, 



72 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

to fill positions for which they were remarkably 
adapted, and in which they achieved extraordinary 
triumphs. When the anti-Stuart party, by dint of 
perseverance, gradually loomed up under the very 
shadow of St. James's, and when their cause had so 
far developed as to encourage the hope of ultimate 
success, the hand of Providence pointed them to 
Holland for their Samson, and he came forth at the 
bidding of the righteous cause of liberty. 

William had, from his earliest manhood, been ac- 
customed to regard it as his peculiar mission to 
establish the independence of the Protestant states, 
and to restrain the overbearing influence of Louis 
the Magnificent. It was his good fortune to be the 
medium by which this grand purpose was achieved 
for England and Holland. To him belongs the 
honor of fulfilling his mission nobly ; it is to his 
glory that he succeeded in that in which success 
seemed distant. But to put him in the brilliant 
light of the " founder of British liberty " does mon- 
strous injustice to British public sentiment of that 
time, and places the hero himself in a doubtful 
position before future generations. 

The people vibrated to one extreme in the protec- 
torate of Cromwell ; they vibrated to the other ex- 
treme in the reigns of Charles and James ; they 
returned in their vibration just so far, in the time of 
William, as to reach the blessings, without restoring 



THE -LAST OF THE STUABTS. 73 

the evils, of the commonwealth. It was, then, pub- 
lic sentiment, unaided by any one very brilliant 
mind, unpromoted either by fanatical zeal or by secret 
intrigue, frowned upon by the old and illustrious 
houses of the nobility, and by a majority of the prel- 
ates of the Establishment, sustained by several de- 
termined souls, whose patriotism was undoubted, but 
impelled by the resistless arguments of proofs which 
brought them daily oppression, supported by a con- 
viction that the struggle was not like that of Crom- 
well, which sect should have the power to oppress 
the other, but in behalf of universal toleration and 
equal justice : it wast this sentiment that was the 
great interior cause of the regeneration of the Eng- 
lish constitution. 

The battle which finally established the ascendency 
of the Protestant party under William and Ormond, 
is seldom noticed as one of the events which has fixed 
the fate of nations. Unmarked by that striking splen- 
dor which has distinguished other decisive battles, 
achieved by no consummate generalship on either 
side, apparently nearly balanced jn the strength of 
its opposing elements, enacted with alacrity, and 
without the preparatory and subsequent bustle which 
generally attends like conflicts, it spoke in tones of 
prophecy for the future happiness of a great nation. 
It marked the beginning: of an era which has never 
been equalled for the astonishing progress of the 
4 



74 GLIMPSES OF HISTOBY. 

human race. It was the mustard-seed, which pro- 
duced a proKfic and exuberant growth. It achieved 
for the Anglo-Saxon perpetual freedom of conscience 
and political action : this is at once its simplest and 
its eublimest eulogy. 

The sun of the 1st of July, 1690, shone with a 
clear light upon Ireland. Its early rays of morning 
fell upon a glistening armament of two vigorous and 
hopeful bands ; their last lingering glance beheld the 
retreating army of a despotic and dying cause. 
During that eventful day, the brave, the good, the 
loyal, had fallen ; but in that struggle had been 
achieved the greatest boons of nature and enlight- 
enment, for millions and for centuries. William 
of Orange the Protestant and James Stuart the 
Papist were fit personifications of the struggle of 
liberalism against prejudice, popular liberty against 
kingly power, intellectual progress against sensual 
indulgence. Ireland was a fit spot where to decide 
the contest which was to break the power of popery, 
or consign to the despotism of the hierarchy the des- 
tinies of Britain. For there the tyranny of James was 
visible in the desolate hamlet and deserted city ; and 
there, too, wherever the protection of the new gov- 
ernment extended, new life was seen springing up 
throughout the community. 

The peals of the victorious guns of Londonderry 
had hardly ceased, and Enniskillen had but just 



THE LAST OF THE STUARTS. 75 

achieved, with a meagre band of sterling souls, a. 
signal triumph over the rude and merciless Celts, 
when, to complete the rout of the deposed monarch, 
the blended colors of England and Orange floated 
from Dublin Castle. By the battle of the Boyne, 
of which the capture of the metropolis was the imme- 
diate result, was insured the final annihilation of the 
dynasty of the Stuarts. They had ruled for nearly a 
century. They had found a strong and vigorous 
prerogative, a substantial prosperity, a rich and 
high-toned literature, a nation respected at home 
and abroad. They left a weak and corrupt court, 
a sluggish and crumbling navy, a low and scurrilous 
literature, a second-rate power in Europe. What- 
ever of good Elizabeth had preserved and acquired, 
they were quick to eradicate ; whatever of evil she 
had continued or called into existence, they were 
equally zealous to perpetuate. Whether in secret 
league with foreign courts, or draining the national 
exchequer, or desecrating the high office of the bench, 
or ministering to the peevish cravings of imbecile 
courtiers, or insulting the clergy, — the effect of every 
act of the two last Stuart kings was to diminish 
British credit, to dishonor British fame, and to de- 
moralize British habits. To narrow to the control 
of a few the legislature of the state, to subject to royal 
dictation the decisions of the judge, to incessantly 
widen the dominion of monarch over Parliament, 
were the great ends these proposed to themselves. 



76 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

But the people had been growing ; the march of 
civilization had kept an equal course ; liberal aspira- 
tion, trodden under foot, grew even there, and flour- 
ished. The progeny of Charles arose against the 
progeny of Charles. The grandson, the hope of the 
vast majority, went, supported by the right arm of 
the English people, to expel the son from the throne 
and the soil of his fathers. Supported though the 
tyrant was by his papist brother of France, defended 
though he was by the superstitious ferocity of the 
Irishry, he fell before the might of his own people ; 
he fell by the hand of his own nephew and the hus- 
band of his own daughter ; he fell by the demerit of 
his own foolhardy reign, a reign which had brought 
calamity and woe to those very households which had 
sent forth the flower of the English youth to die for 
his royal father at Worcester and Marston Moor. 

And WilKam, a second but a peaceful conqueror, 
the deliverer of a people whose language he could not 
speak, whose habits he could not learn, whose political 
and religious system were an enigma to him, a cold, 
phlegmatic Dutchman, sat upon the throne of his Eng- 
lish ancestors, assured of the love of his people, proud 
in the consciousness of having achieved the noble 
title of benefactor to his religion and his race ; and to 
the end of his Hfe governed with vigor and prudence, 
yielding the while to every subject the right to wor- 
ship according to the promptings of his own con- 
science. 



Y. 

LORD CHANCELLOR CAMPBELL. 

T is worthy of note that the English statesmen of 
the present century have mostly originated in two 
opposite ranks of society. They have either been 
the scions of noble and powerful families, or they 
have arisen, in spite of circumstance, from humble 
parents, by the sole recommendation of personal 
worth. Of the great middle class, the class which 
is certainly the most respectable of the EngHsh com- 
munity, and which is at present the controlling power 
in the state, but few have recently attained great em- 
inence. That the titled and wealthy should advance 
to power and high rank in a government peculiarly 
influenced by such recommendations, is not strange. 
Any son of a great English house, who has ambition, 
and a reasonable share of brains, may attain, with 
comparative ease, eminence in the state. An apt 
example is Lord Russell, who, with but httle genius, 
with no oratorical force, and hardly more than 
medium capacity, has become the leader of the pre- 
dominant party, by dint of shrewdness, a persevering 

(77) 



78 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

spirit, and ambition, backed by the powerful influence 
of the noble house of Bedford. And that the master- 
spirits bom in poverty should shake off the incubus 
of humble birth, and advance to a level with the 
noblest, is not so unnatural or improbable but that 
the history of every nation affords us abundant exam- 
ples of such men ; while the middle class, who are 
neither stimulated by the calls of penury, nor pushed 
forward by hereditary interest, naturally retain a con- 
tented mediocrity of renown and honor. 

If any of our readers visited the House of Lords 
a few years ago, they doubtless had their attention 
directed to the venerable statesman who occupied, 
with eminent dignity and grace, the office of chair- 
man to that body, and whose decease was noticed 
with such profound regret in British journals. On 
inquiry, they doubtless learned that this was Lord 
Chancellor Campbell. He had risen from the lowest 
drudgery to the highest eminence of the legal pro- 
fession. By the prolific arts of perseverance and 
industry, he had scaled each successive round in the 
ladder of promotion, until now, in his declining 
years, with accumulated honor and respect, he had 
thus reached the summit, taking precedence after the 
Archbishop of Canterbury, holding the great seal, 
and presiding over the peers of the realm. 

He was one of those rare examples of unconquer- 
able pluck, who have mastered the prejudice of 



LORD CHANCELLOR CAMPBELL. 79 

wealth and power, and to whom has been yielded 
a position envied by the most worthy descendants of 
the most illustrious nobles. In America, where pub- 
lic distinction is within the reach of all, it is difficult 
to conceive of the restraints which beset the humble 
aspirant in the old country. But notwithstanding 
such obstacles, the examples of such men as Eldon, 
Stowell, Truro, St. Leonards, Ashburton, Canning, 
and Campbell, exhibit the gratifying fact, that hered- 
itary power cannot hide the dignity of great genius ; 
that greatness will thrust aside the lesser privilege of 
worldly circumstance, whether it be born in a palace 
or a cottage ; and that you can no more ct)ntrol the 
operation of a superior mind by the vanities of title 
and lucre, than you can subordinate truth to error, 
or eternity to time. The glittering train of peers 
and nabobs who followed in the path of the great 
Elizabeth lie forgotten under the stately arches of the 
old cathedrals ; w^hile the poverty-stricken player, 
William Shakspeare, has adorned every library with 
his name, and reigns in every appreciative heart, as 
a perfect master of nature and lofty thought. The 
names of the brilliant court which welcomed Georo-e 
the Third to the throne of the Plantagenets no longer 
linger on the lips of men ; while every household 
boasts its ^Rasselas,' and the civilized world holds 
sacred the memory of the illustrious ^Kambler.' 
John Campbell was born in 1781, and was the 



80 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBY. 

son of an obscure Scotch clergyman. His father 
destined him for the clergy ; in consequence of which 
he was sent to the University of St. Andrews, where 
he met the great Dr. Chalmers, then a student like 
himself. But young Campbell became averse to the 
profession which had been chosen for him, and soon 
turned his attention to the law. Soon after gradu- 
ation, he betook himself to London, where he studied 
with great zeal, meanwhile supplying his wants by 
acting as the theatrical critic of the " Morning Chron- 
icle." There, seated in an obscure corner of the pit 
or upper gallery, we may imagine the chancellor in 
embryo jotting down the petty excellences and fail- 
ings of the players, to pamper the taste of the frivo- 
lous on the morrow ; while below him, in the deco- 
rated boxes and circles, lolled the vain crowd of 
coroneted simpletons and courtly beauties, now long 
forgotten, while he is honored as the benefactor of 
his country's laws. 

He was called to the bar by the Society of Lin- 
coln's Inn, and then commenced a long life, replete 
with arduous study, with untiring interest in duty, 
and stubborn perseverance. He early espoused the 
liberal doctrines of Fox and Grey ; and inasmuch as 
for many years after the Tories monopolized the 
power, his politics were an effectual bar to his pro- 
fessional preferment. He remained, however, through 
his whole life, an earnest and consistent advocate of 



LOBD CEANCELLOB CAMPBELL. 81 

his early convictions. Owing to the prejudice which 
Lord Chancellor Eldon entertained against the Whigs, 
he did not obtain the silk gown of king's counsel 
till the venerable Jacobite gave place, in 1827, to 
the more courteous and liberal Lyndhurst. 

He entered the House of Commons in the year 
1830, and was soon recognized as one of the leading 
members of the British bar. The period of his debut 
in public life is one of peculiar significance in the 
party history of England. The long dominion of 
the statesmen of the Pitt and Liverpool school was 
at last overthrown. The poHtical dogmas which 
had resisted Catholic toleration, which had sustained 
the continental powers in their persecution of the 
French emperor, which had resisted the right of a 
neighboring people to choose their own rulers, which 
had held in imprisonment the first genius of the cen- 
tury, which had opposed the abolition of the test act, 
which had sustained the most licentious and most 
obstinate sovereign of modern times, now yielded to 
the more enlio^htened views of such statesmen as Rus- 
sell and Lansdowne, Brougham and Grey. 

.Several causes operated to bring about this auspi- 
cious change. George the Fourth, whose partiality 
for the Tories was only surpassed by his animosity 
against the Whigs, had given place to a liberal prince, 
renowned for his zealous attachment to the popular 

weal. Again, Canning's influence in moderating the 
4* 



82 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

maxims of Tory theorists was greatly felt among the 
gentry. Finally, the rapid growth of intelligence, 
developments in the history of nations, and juster 
* conceptions of the relations of sovereign and people, 
prepared the public mind for extensive reforms in the 
constitution. Earl Grey, a statesman eminent no 
less for his eloquence and sagacity than for the worth 
of his private character, succeeded to the premiership 
in 1830, being the first Whig who held that office 
since the cabinet of ' all the talents,' in 1806. 

It was at such a juncture that Campbell entered 
the House of Commons. The sanguine dreams of 
his youth were dawning into reality ; and he was 
gratified to see his cherished principles fully adopted 
by the country, and to know that he was a participant 
in the glories of the great reform. 

In 1832, when he had been a member of the 
House but two years, and a king's counsel but five 
years, and in the same year that the reform of Russell 
and Grey received the royal sign-manual, he was 
elevated to the dignity of solicitor general. Ko one 
of the long line of his illustrious predecessors brought 
to the discharge of this eminent trust greater learning 
and acuteness than Lord Campbell evinced, who, at 
the same time of this appointment, was honored with 
the order of knis^hthood. In 1834, after servina^ as 
solicitor with the marked approbation of the govern- 
ment, he was promoted to the attorney generalship. 



LOBD CHANCELLOR CAMPBELL. 83 

Pie now reentered Parliament as the representative 
of the capital of his native Scotland, and became a 
leader in debate and the transaction of the public 
business. He continued attorney general through the 
conservative ministry of Sir Robert Peel, and the 
subsequent Whig government of Lord Melbourne. 
In 1841 he held for a brief period the chancellor- 
ship of Ireland, being at the same time elevated to 
the rank of a peer of England, with the title of John, 
first Lord Campbell. He retired from office when 
Sir Robert Peel returned to power in the autumn of 
1841, and turned his thoughts to the graceful pur- 
suit of literature. The first production of his pen 
v/as the "Lives of the Lord Chancellors," from the 
earliest times to the close of Lord Eldon's chancel- 
lorship, in 1827. For the spirited interest of its 
style, the clear and precise detail of fact, and the 
simple yet elegant course of its manner, it is sur- 
passed by no work of the present century. It is 
regarded by eminent critics as a masterpiece of biog- 
raphy, and may justly rank with the first books of 
that character in the English tongue. H; has prob- 
ably been as serviceable to perpetuate the name of 
the author, if not more so, than the numerous pro- 
found and equitable decisions which he has left on the 
records of the Courts of King's Bench and Chancery. 

It was soon followed by the " Lives of the Chief 
Justices of England," which only enhanced the repu- 



84 GLIMPSES OF EISTORY. 

tation of the former work ; and we would heartily 
recommend both of these books to the perusal of all 
who are interested, either professionally or as a mat- 
ter of taste, in this branch of literature, as a deeply 
interesting as well as instructive entertainment. 

In 1846 Lord John Kussell assumed office, and 
Lord Campbell was recalled from the occupation 
which had proved so congenial to his mind, to take 
a seat in the ministry as chancellor of the Duchy of 
Lancaster. While he held this position, he was a 
frequent debater in the House of Peers, where he 
zealously defended the policy of the government. Li 
1850 Lord Chief Justice Denman retired from the 
King's Bench, ripe in years and in honorable re- 
nown, and Lord Campbell was at once designated as 
his successor. In this exalted place he was removed 
from the harassing uncertainties of political hfe ; 
and he continued for nine years to administer justice 
with promptitude, skill, and equity. 

It was while chief justice that he became eminent 
for the great light he brought to bear upon many in- 
tricate questions of law ; and his fame may be said to 
rest mainly upon the profound ability with which he 
exercised the functions of this trust. In 1859, when 
Lord Palmerston succeeded to the brief administra- 
tion of Lord Derby, fjord Campbell was finally raised 
to the summit of his profession. He was the fourth 
Scotchman who has been lord chancellor within the 



LORD CHANCELLOR CAMPBELL. 85 

century, and was a worthy compeer of such men as 
Loughborough, Erskine, and Brougham. The long 
years of unremitting toil were at length crowned with 
glorious success ; and he died in the midst of duty, 
affluence, honor, and power, while enjoying the pre- 
rogatives of the highest judicial trust, in 1861. 

Whether we consider him as a lawyer, statesman, 
or author, his fame is a substantial one. Profound 
without pedantry, subtle without craft, zealous with- 
out bigotry, and humane without effeminacy, he lived 
a philanthropic, pure, and consistent life. His high- 
est eulogium is, that he lived and died in the service 
of his country; that through every vicissitude his 
chief care was the national weal ; and that few Eng- 
lishmen of the present century have left more en- 
during monuments of public wisdom and private 
example. 



VI. 

COUNT CAVOUE. 

WHEN a nation assumes, for the first time in its 
history, the rank of a superior power, civilized 
man regards the event with sympathy. With how 
much greater gratification do we behold the regenera- 
tion of a people, which in former ages discovered a con- 
spicuous superiority, but which, by the process of des- 
potism and consequent apathy, has been for centuries 
an object of universal pity, and whose later degrada- 
tion has seemed the more hopeless when contrasted 
with its former grandeur ! While the revolutions of 
modern Europe have transferred the ascendency from 
nation to nation, and have alternately elevated and 
depressed almost every country between the Atlantic 
and the Caucasus, Italy alone, the ancient seat of 
world-wide empire, has remained listless and stag- 
nant under the oppression of the hierarchy, the Bour- 
bons, and the Hapsburgs. 

The Reformation, prolific in the grand results of a 
purer religion and a more vigorous enlightenment, 

swept by the land of the Caesars, and left the un- 
(86) 



COUNT CAVOUB. 87 

happy descendants of the greatest of races stranded 
in the cruel and superstitious ignorance of the dark 
ages. While England, France, Spain, and the 
German states — dependent provinces which received 
viceroys from and paid a humble tribute to the 
early emperors — have successively assumed the 
highest elevation of power among the nations, their 
once queenly mistress has been overridden by a 
crafty priesthood, and has been retained in slavish 
submission by a foreign and mercenary armament. 
Divided into numerous states and municipalities, 
each independent of, and most of them hostile to, 
the others ; distracted by the bitter strifes of fac- 
tions rivalling one another in the same overwhelm- 
ing passion ; held all the while in debasing thral- 
dom by the fulminations of ambitious and licentious 
pontiffs ; degenerated, by a fatal luxury, from the 
iron spirit which had dictated laws alike in the rude 
valley of the Tweed and among the splendid temples 
of Persia; a people motiveless and hopeless, and, 
by the absorption of the church, bereft of the little 
genius which might otherwise have illuminated its 
history, — how sad is the contemplation of the des- 
olate centuries which have passed over the fairest 
regions and most memorable spots of the earth ! 

It has been the felicity of the present generation to 
witness the awakening of Italy to the dawn of a glo- 
rious destiny. The spirit which has either slumbered 



88 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

or vented itself in helpless and insane ravings has 
shaken off its lethargy, and tyranny may well trem- 
ble when it beholds the regeneration of a people 
before deemed most secure in its grasp. A rapid 
concentration of states and of policy ; the creation, 
by the house of Savoy, of a constitutional govern- 
ment ; the revolutionary successes of Garibaldi ; the 
wisdom and moderation of the sovereia^n designated 
from the first, by nature and position, to preside over 
the birth of the new nation ; and, as we conceive, 
beyond all, the gigantic efforts of Count .Cavour, — 
have resulted in placing once more the land of Caesar 
and of Machiavel among the great powers of the 
earth. For a century and a half, five nations have 
arrogated to themselves the splendid joint title of the 
" Great Powers." Of these, four comprise commu- 
nities once held in vassalage by the magistrates of 
Rome. The former mistress now takes her place 
among her former vassals as their equal, and here- 
after six Great Powers will unite with and oppose 
one another to preserve the balance of European 
dominion. 

The cause of the regeneration of Italy is easily dis- 
covered. Attempts have been made in the past to 
break loose from the bondage of the papacy and the 
empire; but they were without method, — looking 
not to the end, but impelled by sudden firenzy, — 
rather a wild thirst for any change than a wise en- 



COUNt CAVOUR. 89 

deavor for a better state, — unorganized, and undis- 
ciplined by principle or system, led by ignorant and 
reckless men, who would have been kings of bandits, 
but whose statesmanship would have been a worse 
tyranny than that of the worst pontiffs, — and with- 
out unity of design, of interest, or even of cause. 
Such passionate and aimless rebellions could not be 
expected to succeed against military armaments, pos- 
sessed of the advantages of discipline and experience, 
and stationed at every point of the insurgent terri- 
tory. Even modern times have witnessed the wild 
fanaticism of Mazzini, who, in attempting to re- 
enact in Italy the inglorious fratricides exemplified 
by France, retarded for a time the formation of a 
constitutional monarchy, the nucleus of an indepen- 
dent empire. 

The essential want of Italy was a calm, great 
master-mind. Her sons, even the greatest of them, 
have been too mercurial and fickle, too much under 
the dominion of their passions, too much devoted to 
luxury, or to their particular pursuits, to engage in 
successful revolution. They wanted the iron will, 
the dauntless spirit, the discerning forethought, the 
steady intellect, of more northern climes ; first to 
overturn existing despotism, then to erect a substan- 
tial and healthy fabric. Passion might have full 
play in the destruction of papal and imperial author- 
ity ; but it must yield to nobler elements when eradi- 



90 GLIMPSES OF' HISTORY. 

cation is to be followed by creation. To destroy, 
requires only the brave heart and the strong arm; 
to erect, demands souls lit up, not only with patriot- 
ism, but with an intelligence undimmed by grosser 
elements. 

The intellectual activity of the last century, crude 
and irregular as it was on the Continent, was the 
germ which culminated in the French revolution, 
and which has set all the communities of Europe in 
pursuit of liberty. Before this period, the monarch, 
everywhere, was the state ; and the acquisitions of 
power, territory, wealth, and internal prosperity were 
not blessings flowing to the people, but jewels added 
to the crown. Free thought, great studies in science, 
philosophy, and theology, if they generated atheism 
and visionary equality, also opened the gates of 
power to its true source, the people. Italy felt this 
universal influence, and the brain of that people, if 
less vivid, became sensitive to the wrongs of tyranny ; 
as in France, the same cause brought anarchy. 

The gorgeous imagination of Dante, centuries 
earlier, had depicted the past miseries, and no less 
the coming glories, of his unhappy country; and, 
with a foresight illumined by a rich fancy, he had 
seen the peril which, to attain national integrity, she 
would be forced to under 2^0. In the work of imag-i- 
nation, the inciting of a people to resistance, the 
appealing to their best passions, by song and elo- 



COUNT CAVOUB. 91 

quence, Italy has produced great masters ; but it has 
been reserved for the present age to elicit an effica- 
cious intellectual aid, which should combine and sys- 
tematize the hitherto inchoate elements of an Italian 
kingdom. The great mental activity of the past cen- 
tury has prepared the people to receive and to appre- 
ciate a new destiny ; it has awakened a sense of 
shame for past apathy ; it has .kindled noble aspira- 
tions for an independent system ; it has exposed to 
then- contempt the specious fallacies by which Popery 
has inthralled the intellect and the heart ; it has dis- 
played for their emulation the examples of free 
nations. Thus prepared, Italy waited for a guiding 
mind ; and that mind appeared in Camillo di Cavour. 
He is rightly called by Italians the Regenerator of 
Italy. To his intellect and his enthusiasm is to be 
traced the creation of a fabric, wonderful in its youth- 
ful maturity, stately in the proportion and symmetry 
of its design. What enhances the grandeur of his 
achievements is, that they were accomplished in spite 
of patriots. He saw that the separation of communi- 
ties tended toward the worst results of anarchy, no 
less than that their consolidation must be affected by 
checking the natural impulses of the public mind. 
Few of his compatriots had the capacity to appreciate 
any other form of government than the one most 
opposite to that which had paralyzed Italy. The 
southern imagination, more sanguine and irresistible 



92 GLIMFSJE8 OF EISTOBY. 

than that of the French, looked even upon equality 
and fraternity as too moderate a stand-point. Almost 
alone, but nevertheless with all confidence, Cavour 
set about the most ennobling labor which can employ 
the human mind. Inspired no less by the examples 
which history displayed to him, than by the results 
of a practical contemplation of general politics, he 
was entirely satisfied as to the end which he should 
propose to himself, and the means he should employ 
to attain it. Sentiment in him was absorbed in one 
feeling — unalloyed patriotism. He did not reflect 
upon the glories of ancient Kome, upon the great- 
ness of Florence, and Venice, and Naples, and 
Genoa, with the exuberant fancy of a poet, sor- 
rowing for what was past and irrevocable ; but with 
the eyes of a statesman, penetrating the causes of 
their rise and fall, and inspired by their fate to rein- 
state their power permanently and completely. To 
attain an end so noble, he deemed no sacrifice too 
great ; and, in spite of the bigotry of his family, the 
danger to his title, his fortune, his life, and his fame, 
from his earliest manhood he gave himself up to the 
salvation of Italy. 

Camillo Benso di Cavour was born in the capi- 
tal of that kingdom around which he afterwards con- 
centrated the states of Italy, on the 10th of August, 
1810. He was descended from an ancient and noble 
family, who at different times had been renowned for 



COUNT CAVOUB. 93 

o-allantry in the field, and for eminence in literature. 
His family name was Benso ; its title of nobility, 
Cavour; and his own Christian name, Camillo, was 
given him in honor of Camillo, Prince Borghese, 
provincial governor of Piedmont, the husband of the 
brilliant and beautiful Pauline Bonaparte. This 
princess, the favorite sister of the French em- 
peror, together with her consort, presided over the 
baptism of the young noble as sponsor. He was 
the second son of the Marquis Giuseppe Michele 
Benso di Cavour, by a Swiss lady, Adelaide Su- 
sanna Sellon ; and, as is the custom of Italy, he took 
the title of count, as the younger born. It was from 
his mother that he inherited the more prominent char- 
acteristics which afterwards made his life illustrious ; 
while the Piedmontese blood gave him the vivacity 
and warmth of soul peculiar to that people. 

His family had long been a proud and exclusive 
race, holding in contempt the lower classes, and 
devoted to aristocratic domination and popular op- 
pression. Wealthy, of ancient title, and therefore 
of considerable influence among the nobles, his father, 
though by no means an ill-natured man, became an 
earn est advocate of ultra-oligarchical principles . This 
was an immense disadvantage to a youth whose ear- 
liest maturity of reason taught him to take an entirely 
opposite ground, and to espouse the cause of the 
oppressed classes. The prejudice which his father's 



94 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

bigotry had excited against the house descended in 
some measure to Camillo ; and between the distrust 
of the government, who knew his Uberal predilections, 
and the distrust of the people, who looked with sus- 
picion upon a young aristocrat, he was at the entrance 
of life placed in a dilemma hard to be escaped from. 
But few opportunities for advancement were afforded 
to younger sons of nobles at that time, and the army 
was the prevailing choice among them ; and young 
Cavour, though by no means possessing a taste for 
the military profession, seemed compelled to enter it, 
*and was accordingly placed at an early age at the 
Military Academy of Turin. After pursuing for a 
while, with considerable success, the dry details of 
mathematics and practical science, he had the good 
fortune to be appointed page to the Prince Charles 
Albert, heir to the crown of Sardinia ; less, as is 
supposed, from his rank, than because of his liberal 
principles. Such a position in the royal household is 
regarded in most monarchical countries as an almost 
certain avenue to high political trust ; and therefore 
it was no mean tribute to the. young count's spirit 
and ability, that he was thus promoted, at the early 
age of ten years, over the heads of many young 
nobles who were eager to attain the same position. 

His impatience of subordination made a dependence 
on princely favor distasteful even at his age, and he 
was glad to return to his surveying and logarithms 



COUNT CAVOUR. 95 

in the Academy. Here he remained, acquiring, 
rapidly and easily, the scientific elements of the pro- 
fession, until his eighteenth year, when he graduated 
with high rank, and was appointed a lieutenant in 
the Royal Engineers. This position enabled him to 
reduce to practice the lore he had so studiously ac- 
quired, and he was commissioned to make explo- 
rations and plans for forts and other defences in the 
mountain rana:es contio^uous to the confines of Pied- 
mont, and also near Genoa. Although such employ- 
ment gave indulgence to his taste for exact science, 
his spirit was too restless to submit to the petty 
tyranny of military discipline ; and after enduring 
the humiliations of an inferior grade for a short time, 
he retired from the service, and turned his attention 
to his favorite study — that of political philosophy. 

While in the prosecution of his professional duties, 
he had been arrested and confined in the fort of Bard, 
for the expression of liberal opinions. It must 
not be inferred from this that he had given utterance 
to fanatical theories, or that he held any sympathy 
with those visionary politicians who courted martyr- 
dom for democracy. His politics, though liberal, 
were from the first practical and sensible, not con- 
quered by imagination, nor repugnant to moderate 
reason. Nothing can more fully demonstrate the 
wretched despotism under which Piedmont was groan- 
ing at that time, — thanks to the restoration of the 



96 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

Bourbons, — than that such a man, temperate in opin- 
ion and in utterance, should have been imprisoned for 
differing from the autocrats who presided at the cab- 
inet council. Any European government would sup- 
press a wild and dangerous fanatic ; few would say to 
the world that they feared a conservative reformer. 
For Mazzini, it would have, perhaps, been a just 
fate ; in Cavour the injustice of the sentence stimu- 
lated an ambition; the fruit of which was the achieve- 
ment of Italian freedom. 

The period at which he abandoned the restraints 
of an exclusive profession, and turned to the consid- 
eration of political science, was a remarkable one 
throughout Europe. In France the last sovereign 
of the elder Bourbons had just been expelled from 
the throne and the soil of his fathers ; a bloodless 
revolution had been succeeded by a peaceable set- 
tlement ; and constitutional had superseded almost 
absolute monarchy. Philosophical and political 
discussion had become universal, and the pubhc 
mind was thoroughly aroused to the contemplation 
of much- vexed questions. In England the great 
period had arrived which should witness a peaceful 
but thorough renovation of the constitution ; liberal 
ideas took the place of prescription and precedent; 
and fairness of representation, denied for centuries by 
the bigotry or interest of the dominant faction, was 
now accorded by the happy alliance in its favor of 



COUNT CAVOUB. 97 

sovereign and people. The principles of religious 
toleration, too, found an increasing support through- 
out the three kingdoms ; and free trade became the 
watchword of a powerful and briUiant coterie, whose 
names appear as the founders of the Anti-Com-Law 
League. Hungary and Poland manifested new 
symptoms of rising against their imperial oppress- 
ors, and the czar seemed disposed to introduce a 
more generous policy into the government of Russia. 
Greece, released from the rude dominance of the 
Turk, had erected a liberal monarchy, and had chosen 
a German prince to assume her crown, once the fair- 
est treasure within the ambition of man. Belgium 
also, now a thriving and active little kingdom, was 
then just changing ducal for regal dignity, and was 
governed with wisdom by one of the ablest of modern 
princes. All Europe seemed to be awakening to a 
more vig^orous life. Ancient absolutists were losinoj 
their prescriptive authority, and yielding before novel 
and vital forces. In Italy alone the zeal for liberty 
appeared to be dormant, or at least hopelessly in- 
dul<]:ed. While northern communities were awake 
to every opportunity which might brighten their pros- 
pects, the land of Dante and Machiavel seemed to 
have forgotten the inspired exhortations of those 
heroic sages, and to remain motiveless and passive 
under absolute power. 

Cavour met this sad fact at the threshold of his ob- 
5 



98 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBY. 

servations ; but it did not produce in his vivacious 
and cheerful mind the least despair ; on the contrary, 
it inspired him to a desperate attempt to master his 
subject, and then to use the experience thus acquired 
for the benefit of his country. It might have been 
expected that the intensity of his patriotic feeling 
would drive him into all the theories of equality and 
democracy which characterized most anti-imperialists 
of that day ; but his mind, steady and practical 
amidst surrounding tumults, recoiled from ideas which 
had thus far availed so little, and harmed so much. 
The blood of Piedmont which ran through his veins, 
and which stimulated passion, was tempered by the 
blood of Switzerland, which balanced judgment 
against impetuosity, and deliberation against fire of 
spirit. 

Already he saw himself the future minister of the 
kingdom of Italy, uniting under his administration 
ail the states of the peninsula, and sitting at congresses 
on a proud equality with the Hapsburg tyrant. Un- 
doubtedly ambitious to become eminent in political 
life, and especially eager to be enshrined in the hearts 
of his countrymen as one of the founders of a new 
destiny, he yet disdained to employ the arts of the 
demagogue, and loathed secret conclaves for the sin- 
ister purpose of popular agitation. His course, as 
was to be expected, was frowned upon by his patrician 
father and his absolutist kinsmen ; while the people, 



COUNT CAVOUB. 99 

prejudiced . against him as a scion of aristocracy, 
looked upon his youthful aspirations with much dis- 
trust. .Amid such discouragements, opposed alike by 
those whom nature prompted to sustain him, and by 
those whom gratitude should have attached to him, 
and apparently sacrificing the only opportunity which 
appeared open to him to achieve political success, this 
illustrious man obstinately adhered to a moderate, en- 
lightened, and just view of facts and principles. He 
turned his particular attention to the study of poHti- 
cal economy, and soon accepted the doctrines of Adam 
Smith and Lord Grey as those most in harmony with 
reason, and especially with the policy of Italy. The 
results of his subsequent statesmanship demonstrate 
the wisdom of this course ; and at the present hour 
Italy is making rapid strides in regaining that com- 
mercial ascendency which formerly rendered Venice 
and Florence the marts most courted by all nations 
— a tesult which may be aptly traced to the exertions 
of Count Cavour. 

Charles Albert ascended the throne of Sardinia in 
1832, and the Marchese di Cavour was appointed 
vicariOf or mayor, of Turin — an office of considera- 
ble trust, and the reward of loyal devotion to the 
absolute party. His official duties consisted of the 
superintendence of the police system, which in J:hose 
days was used rather as a defence against the liberal 
opposition than in the more general functions usually 



100 GLIMP8ES OF HISTORY. 

assigned to it. The father was thus identified with 
the enemies and persecutors of the son, and became 
the magistrate whose peculiar care it was to check 
any movement towards a change of government — 
an object dear to Camillo. This was a formidable 
obstacle, but not so formidable as to modify his opin- 
ions, or to silence the proper expression of them. 
He could not, however, pursue his studies under such 
a censorship in his native city ; and therefore he 
spent the year following the accession of Charles in 
overseeing the family estates, travelling in various 
provinces of Italy, and, wherever he went, impress- 
ing upon his mind, for future use, his observations of 
the state of society. As early as his twenty-third 
year his opinions and character made him an object 
of suspicion to the Austrian cabinet; and records 
have since been brought to light in the form of official 
instructions, describing his person and character, and 
warning the agents of the imperial court to watch so 
dangerous an enemy to absolute power. In 1835 he 
was called to the sick bed of his maternal aunt, the 
Duchess of Clermont-Tonnerre, at Geneva ; and hav- 
ing approached so near the frontier of the Alps, he 
seized an occasion he had long desired to cross the 
mountains, and contemplate the recently purified sys- 
tems of France and Great Britain. 

He regarded the new regime of the former king- 
dom with much less interest than the constitutional 



COUNT GAVOUB. 101 

stability of the latter. He looked with especial favor 
upon the operation of that nationality, which, appar- 
ently, has the unanimous preference of reflecting 
liberals on the Continent. The distinctive vigor and 
independence of the Anglo-Saxon race, subordinated 
to order and respecting law, appeared to him to be 
stamped upon the character of the government, and 
the ea^e with which so ancient a constitution had 
yielded to the demands of a progressive age filled 
him with enthusiastic admiration. He did not con- 
fine his attention to the organization of the executive 
and legislature, the spirit of the laws, the systems of 
finance, war, and marine, and the practical action and 
retroaction of administration and citizen ; he also pen- 
etrated beneath the external facts which make up the 
history of a nation, and studied earnestly the different 
grades of society, the effects of unequal rank, and 
the various prejudices, habits, and tendencies of all 
classes. He looked with an admiration almost tinged 
with envy on the wonderful equihbrium which could 
combine in one constitution elements seemingly so 
inharmonious as an oligarchy, a sovereign, a state 
church, and a representative estate. But he did not 
speak of English institutions with unquaHfied praise ; 
for he unhesitatingly denounced that exclusive spirit 
wliich has accumulated in the hands of a few proud 
famihes the greater part of British territory, and has 
denied to the farmer a fair competition in labor. He 



102 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

could not view witli approval the aristocracy nor the 
political church. He regarded England, never- 
theless, as the pioneer of European civilization, 
vrhose mission it vras to introduce reforms in politics 
and morals, and to exemplify them in her own policy. 
His visit to that country, therefore, was one of the 
greatest pleasure, as well as instruction to him. 

Throughout his future life he seems to have profited 
by the experience derived from his English tour, in 
modifying his political course. Accepting the same 
abstract principles which underlie the British consti- 
tution, he built up a fabric in many respects similar, 
and in many, we think, superior, to that which he 
adopted as a model. He made the acquaintance and 
acquired the friendsliip of many prominent English- 
men of all parties ; and from the discussions which 
he heard, and in which he was a participant, he con- 
ceived a vivid idea of the principles with which he 
sought to be familiar. Every fact, every cause, every 
effect, was treasured up in that rare memory, as ma- 
terial for his life-work. His judgment perceived at 
once those circumstances and data which could be 
employed in guiding his future policy, and which 
were applicable to the character of his fellow-coun- 
trymen ; and his assiduity was the less laborious, 
inasmuch as he experienced the keenest pleasure in the 
occupation. His pursuit of knowledge was not devoted 
entirely to general theories ; but he descended care- 



COUNT CAVOUB. 103 

fully to the consideration of practical details, visiting 
the different departments in Downing Street, observ- 
ing the operation of law, and attending day after day 
the parliamentary sessions, not less to derive an idea 
of the legislative practice and customs of England, 
than to witness the conflicts of parties. 

In such congenial studies he employed his time 
until 1842, when he returned to his native country. 
His wealth had given him leisure, and his rank op- 
portunities, to select the mode of life to which his 
tastes directed him ; and his native mercurial tem- 
perament, combined with a hearty appreciation of 
social pleasures, strongly tempted him to turn from 
the path of usefulness, and to embark on that of a 
transitory happiness. Few men could have resisted 
the natural tendencies of the passions when encour- 
aged by such a position. But his soul was fixed 
upon a great purpose ; and to that puqDOse the allure- 
ments of folly, and even of ease, promptly yielded. 
Youth, riches, rank, a warm and generous heart, and 
manners which irresistibly attracted, became, in the 
balance which should determine a wise or a miserable 
life, as nothing, when opposed to the instincts of a 
pure patriotism, the earnestness of a spirit inspired 
by honest piety, and an intellect capacious enough to 
grasp, and interested enough to attempt, the great 
problems which involve the rise and fall of nations. 
The flower of younger manhood thus spent was a 



104 QLIMP8ES OF EI8T0BY. 

certain presage of future eminence ; and it is with 
scarcely less admiration that we view this early devo- 
tion to the service of his country, than the more recent 
and world-renowned achievements of his intellect. 

On his return to Italy, he commenced his public ca- 
reer by taking up the pen in the advocacy of the opin- 
ions of which he was now firmly persuaded. He wrote 
an admirable essay on the " State and Prospects of Ire- 
land " — a work for which he had fitted himself while in 
the British Isles, at which period the O'Connell agita- 
tion was at its height ; and his appreciation of his 
theme, and the accuracy with which he dealt with the 
material before liim, elicited the praise of the most 
profound British minds. " Italian Railroads " also 
found a vigorous and earnest advocate in Cavour at 
this time ; and another essay, " On the Influence of 
Commercial Reform in England on the Economical 
Condition of Italy," extended his reputation as a 
writer and an economist throughout Europe. A 
British reviewer of ability has aptly remarked, that 
these early fruits of Cavour's genius partake rather of 
the dispassionate and dehberate character of state 
papers, than of that of pamphlets written upon exciting 
political topics. Throughout their pages is discern- 
ible the operation of a calm and lucid mind, quick to 
arrive at conclusions warranted by safe premises, just 
in fixing the importance of facts, and entirely free 
from sympathies produced by partiality for either 



COUNT CAVOUR, 105 

party. Their style is clear, unadorned by rhetorical 
digressions, strictly accurate in word and expression, 
and always aiming straight at the main idea. 

He became an active participant in the delibera- 
tions of the " Societd A-graria^^ a body of men who 
favored the introduction into Piedmont, not only of 
agi'icultural improvements, but of all those resources 
which make a community energetic and prosperous. 
They formed a nucleus around which might be gath- 
ered the liberal sentiment of Italy, and did not confine 
their projects of reform to the narrow details of their 
incorporation. It was in communion with the members 
of this society that Cavour found a thorough sympa- 
thy with the principles which he had adopted, and 
also the eminent and earnest friends who afterwards 
assisted in liis lofty labor of regenerating the system. 
Their organ, the Gazzetta delV A.ssociazione Agra- 
ria, found in him a constant and zealous correspond- 
ent, whose contributions were directed to the univer- 
sal amelioration of the condition of the people. He 
sustained free trade, as the resuscitator of a dormant 
commerce ; the establishment of educational systems, 
as the purifiers of popular virtue ; the encouragement 
of science and art, as adornments indispensable to a 
civilized race ; the creation of benevolent societies, as 
alleviations of the suflPerings of the lower classes ; in- 
dustrial schemes, as life-giving elements in a society 
naturall} prone to agriculture; and, above all, the 
5* 



106 GLIMPSES OF EISTORY, 

establishment of a popular legislature, as the guardian 
of national liberty. 

The influence of his mind, acting thus through the 
medium of the press, became gradually felt in the 
more enlightened circles of the metropolis ; and the 
ideas which he put forth, in so convincing and 
logical a form, began to insinuate themselves into 
the first intellects of Piedmont. Few had looked 
beyond local history and events for their political eru- 
dition ; and none probably possessed a just idea of 
the practical operation of liberal principles beyond 
the Alps. They were now fully enlightened by one 
of their own countrymen, in a form entirely lucid, 
and appealing at once to their understandings, by 
the clearness and simplicity with which he made 
every subject he approached appear to them. Such 
statesmen as Gioberti, Ricasoli, and Azeglio, were 
struck with the benefits and practicability of the re- 
forms which he sought to introduce; and all who, 
while they rejected the revolutionary fantasies of 
Mazzini, yet yearned for a deliverance from the ex- 
isting status, turned their attention to the doctrines 
now for the first time advocated, as remedies suflS- 
cient for the existing evils. 

In addition to these efforts to set public sentiment 
in the right direction, Cavour continued to devote 
his attention earnestly to the study of political philos- 
ophy, while at the same time he indulged his tastes 



COUNT CAVOUB. 107 

for agricultural pursuits. As liberal principles 
became more extensively adopted, he found that 
the Gazzetta did not afford a sufficient opportunity 
to promulgate his views ; and, in connection with 
other eminent Liberals, he instituted, in 1847, a 
political daily, called the Risorgimento. Happily, 
the press was so free as to permit the accomplish- 
ment of the objects of this paper, whose mission was 
announced to be, "the independence of Italy, union 
between princes and people, progressive reform, and a 
confederation of the Italian states." Keeping clear of 
the dangerous theories which impelled Mazzini to seek 
revolution, and rejecting the policy of repubhcanism 
as entirely unsuited to the genius of Italy, he advo- 
cated mutual compromise between the sovereign and 
the subjects, by which the former should be secured 
in limited dominion, and the latter admitted to a par- 
ticipation in power. Although he perceived that the 
papal power was destructive of Italian independence, 
he did not declare war upon the hierarchy, but 
sought, while stripping the pope of the ability to 
oppose the projected confederation, to leave in his 
hands a nominal sovereignty, and, if feasible, to 
place him in the van of the great reform move- 
ment. 

This policy, at once conservative and progressive, 
met with extreme opposition from two distinct quar- 
ters — the ultra absolutists and the ultra democrats. 



108 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

The partisans of the empire and the Society of Jesus 
frowned upon a project which destroyed the essence, 
though it retained the semblance, of princely and 
ecclesiastical power. The followers of Mazzini re- 
jected a proposal which should continue monarchi- 
cal institutions and admit the aristocracy to a con- 
siderable power. It was, therefore, to the intelligent 
middle class, — that class which has everywhere main- 
tained order and rational liberty, — and to the liberal 
noblemen and philosophic statesmen of Italy, that 
Cavour looked for an efficient support of the views 
promulgated in the Risorgimento , Early in the 
year 1848, he took a step which indentified him 
distinctly as a bold and earnest leader of a thorough, 
though not a radical, reform. A deputation of Gen- 
oese citizens had arrived at Turin to petition the king 
in reference to the expulsion from that city of the 
Society of Jesus, and also to urge the remodelling of 
the militia ; and the leading politicians of the metrop- 
oHs, perceiving this to be a fit opportunity to strike a 
blow, met to consider the expediency of joining in 
the request of the Genoese. Cavour, bolder than the 
rest, and not deterred by the unpopularity he akeady 
labored under, ignoring aU minor issues, moved at 
once to petition Charles Albert for a free press and 
for a constitution. This proposition, though sus- 
tained by the conservative members of the meeting, 
failed through the opposition of Mazzini's partisans. 



COUNT GAVOUB. 109 

and the public press refused to print it ; in con- 
sequence of which Cavour informed the king him- 
self of the motion he had made. 

Charles Albert, who had been regarded as an ab- 
solutist, and whose relations with the empire ren- 
dered it improbable that he would listen to reformers, 
yet was not devoid of that sagacity which profits by 
experience, and yields when the choice is inevitable 
between yielding and falling. The example of Charles 
d'Artois was too recent to be forgotten ; he knew his 
people too well to trust to their calmness and clem- 
ency, and, like a wise king, he granted to them a 
constitution; thus preserving his own crown, and 
paving the way for uniting, under his successor, the 
then inchoate elements of an Italian kingdom. It is 
not a little to be commended that the late king seized 
exactly the right time to concede a Parliament, and 
that he did not wait until public ferment would have 
made it difficult to trust his sincerity. This impor- 
tant movement took place soon after Cavour's motion 
in the Assembly of Editors, in response to a petition 
from the city of Turin. 

Cavour was intrusted with the duty of framing an 
electoral bill, and under its operation he was elected 
by the citizens of his native city to the first Chamber 
of Kepresentatives. Thus peacefully and without 
difficulty was the kingdom of Sardinia transformed 
from an absolute into a constitutional monarchy. 



110 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

The king retained a just exercise of executive power ; 
the educated and landed classes were admitted to a 
direct influence through a freely elected legislature ; 
the influence of Austria was counteracted, and the 
example of England adopted ; and instead of a rigid 
political police, a fettered press, and an exclusive 
domination of absolutist princes, the best intellects of 
Piedmont were called to the administration and the 
forum. 

The general convulsion of 1848, which restored 
France to the Corsican line, and which roused Hun- 
gary, Poland, and Milan to a desperate but unsuc- 
cessful outbreak, generated in the inteUigent states- 
man of Piedmont a hope, not entirely free from 
misgiving. Southern Europe, before impervious to 
the commotions which had convulsed more northern 
regions, felt at last a shock which, but for the un- 
prepared state of the people, might have resulted in 
complete disinthralment. The provinces of Milan and 
Lombardy rose in armed resistance to the Emperor of 
Austria ; Rome and Florence became agitated by the 
wild frenzy of visionary democrats. A revolution, 
terrible in its activity and momentous in its results, 
appeared inevitable. Cavour and his colleagues 
seized the occasion to urge a union of states against 
the triple tyranny. They entreated the Sardinian 
king, whose caution and hereditary prejudices were 
well balanced against his ambition, to place himself at 



COUNT GAVOUB, 111 

the head of the great movement about to be made. 
Troops were enlisted, and sent to the banks of the 
Ticino. At last Charles Albert proclaimed himself 
for Italian independence, and the forces of Sardinia 
fought side by side with the Milanese and the Lom- 
bards against the standard of the double eagle. 
Cavour himself would have gone as a volunteer pri- 
vate, but for the armistice at Milan. 

But neither was Sardinia sufficiently strengthened, 
nor the people sufficiently of one purpose, to succeed 
against the deliberate schemes and organized move- 
ments of the Austrian government. The fatal ex- 
cesses of the Mazzini faction produced distraction of 
public sentiment, want of cordiality and unity in the 
pursuit of a common end, and useless but violent 
hatred against those who, like Cavour, retained in the 
midst of revolution an earnest regard for law and 
order. Rome was restored, under the auspices of 
a French armament, to the dominion of the Catholic 
pontiff. Venice, abandoned by her provincial gov- 
ernment, and in spite of a glorious effort for liberty, 
became irretrievably subject to the dictation of the 
Austrian tyrant. The duchies were forced once 
more to receive their hereditary sovereigns, who had 
been constrained to flee before the storm which en- 
dangered their lives as well as their dynasties. The 
battle of No vara, by breaking the vitality of Sardin- 
ian aid, extinguished the last hope of wretched Italy ; 



112 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

and Charles Albert, whose noble determination had 
made him worthy of a better fate, passed beneath the 
proud standard of the Hapsburgs, an exile from the 
throne and from Italy. 

In the midst of commotions like these, the first 
independent Parliament of Sardinia met at Turin ; 
and Cesare Balbo, a Liberal of great ability, but 
whose administration was not prompt in prosecut- 
ing the war, was made premier. Cavour became at 
once, in accordance with the expectations of all, an 
active and leading member. So democratical, how- 
ever, were the tendencies of the assembly, that his 
conservative views made him an object of frequent 
and bitter attack. He took a position which, though, 
to persons looking upon historical events with an im- 
partial eye, it seems a most honorable one, made him 
extremely unpopular when considered in the midst of 
exciting events, and by a bigoted party spirit. The 
administration had been formed on a radical basis ; 
but soon, governed by that consciousness of respon- 
sibility which always attends the acquisition of power, 
the enlightened premier advocated the intervention of 
Sardinia in the war then in progress, and the restora- 
tion of the dethroned princes, under pledges guaran- 
teeing free constitutions to their people. These 
measures Cavour, though originally opposed to the 
ministry, heartily approved. The hopes, however, 
of the statesmen who advocated this policy were 



COUNT CAVOUR. 113 

rforely disappointed when the princes refused the con- 
cessions which were expected of them, and when the 
pope became, on his restoration to the triple crown, 
the steadfast ally of the emperor in oppressing 
Italy. 

Charles Albert could not hope longer to wield the 
destinies of his little kingdom ; and he abdicated the 
throne. His heir came to his royal inheritance, as 
may well be imagined, under peculiar temptations, 
and surrounded by events calculated sternly to test 
the quality of a young and fervid ambition. Before 
him were a dietracted people, not yet recovered from 
the ignominy of hopeless defeats, utterly powerless 
before a great nation, without strength to oppose any 
longer the tyranny which had before incited them to 
resistance. By acquiescence in oppression, Victor 
Emmanuel might look forward to a long, secure, and 
peaceful reign ; and, subject to the dominant power, 
he had a certain prospect of uninterrupted dominion. 
His youthftd prejudices had been formed by absolutist 
courtiers, and a selfish interest in the comfort of his 
own house would have led him to bow cheerfully be- 
fore the haughty crown which sought to make him a 
submissive vassal. It was natural, therefore, that the 
statesmen of Piedmont should look with distrust upon 
the accession of so young and so ambitious a prince. 
Their fears were gloriously disappointed before the 
crown of Savoy had touched the brow of the new 



114 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBY. 

sovereign. On the very night when his father, de- 
throned and exiled, passed from the presence of his 
dejected generals, Victor Emmanuel brandished his 
sword towards the imperial camp, and devoted him- 
self, by a solemn vow, which has been nobly kept, to 
the regeneration of Italy. 

From that moment distrust vanished, and hope 
inspired every patriot heart. In the new king, the 
courage and enthusiasm of youth were combined with 
a discernment of the right cause which would have 
graced the wisdom of age. His choice of a first 
minister indicated a conservative, and yet a generous 
policy. Massimo d' Azeglio,* a brilliant votary 
alike of aesthetics, of politics, and the military art, 
was intrusted with the government, and was joined 
by many of the ablest minds of Piedmont. Grace- 
ful in the use of the pencil, glowing as the delineator 
of historical events, and enchanting in the presenta- 
tion of fictitious scenes and characters, Azeglio could 
yet turn from these elegant and peaceful avocations 
to guide with consummate skill a disordered state 
through peculiar dangers. The perils external were 
not exceeded by the perils internal ; and the new 
premier found that the greatest enemy to the govern- 
ment was concealed in the dark streets of its own 
cities. His fear of the revolutionists made him dis- 
trustful of all innovation, and he inclined rather to 

* Azeslio is now the Italian ambassador at London. 



COUNT GAVOUB. 115 

consolidate and preserve what had already been ac- 
quired, than to widen the margin of national vigor 
by progressing in the paths of reform pointed out by 
more sanguine statesmen. He therefore devoted 
himself with ardor to settling 'the existing disorders, 
and to securing the crown to his young sovereign. 
Count Cavour had heartily approved the nomination 
of Azeglio to the chief direction af aflPairs, and had, 
with a disinterestedness rarely seen, but which was 
characteristic of his whole life, sustained the more 
important measures which that statesman had pro- 
posed to the legislature. But his energetic spirit, 
revolting though it did from the anarchical precepts 
of Mazzini, could not more patiently acquiesce in the 
caution which kept in abeyance the resources of the 
country. More bold and practical than the premier, 
he earnestly urged the prosecution of reform. He 
would anticipate the bright" prospects with which 
Mazzini sought to dazzle the people, and separate the 
good from the evil of the democratic creed. The 
quickness with which he discerned the propriety, and 
even necessity, of improvement in various directions, 
contrasted successfully with the poetic fervor with 
which the imaginative minister clung to the old paths. 
The timid and unpractical mind of the latter, while 
he admitted the reasonableness of Cavour's theories, 
shrank from the bold course which alone could give 
them efficacy. 



116 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

The main obstacle to complete national disinthral- 
ment was the exorbitant influence of the papacy in 
Italian politics. This evil Azeglio sought to eradi- 
cate by the cautious mode of expostulation, and by 
attempting to convince those to whom conviction 
would have been entire loss of power. Such a mode 
was ill adapted to persuade cardinals to yield an 
authority resting on precedent to the exigencies of a 
modern civilization. Cavour, with accurate judg- 
ment, saw the futility of paper attacks, and urged a 
ruder — as the only practicable — method of remov- 
ing this mighty incubus. Sicardi, an eminently 
sensible statesman, was, through his influence, 
brought into the cabinet, and proposed at once to 
act upon the sources whence the hierarchy derived 
its dictatorial authority. The ecclesiastical courts 
were, at his suggestion, abolished ; the clergy were 
deprived of invidious immunities ; the tenure by 
mortmain of religious corporations was restrained 
and regulated. 

Thus, in spite of the violent opposition which 
everywhere demonstrated the yet formidable vigor of 
the chm*ch, the state was relieved of the great ob- 
stacle to the entire independence of the government. 
Cavour was now admitted to the executive Council, 
by being appointed minister of commerce and agri- 
culture — an office for which he was peculiarly 
fitted, not less by his remarkably practical turn of 



COUNT GAVOUB. 117 

mind, than by his taste for, and long attention to, 
these branches of public enterprise. His long-cher- 
ished ideas in favor of free trade were now brought 
forward and put into practice ; and his treaties with 
the various European powers, while from some quar- 
ters they brought denunciation upon him, even to 
personal collision, nevertheless were approved by his 
constituents, and became the settled maritime policy 
of Piedmont. 

He was soon after appointed minister of marine in 
addition to his other offices, and now took the oppor- 
tunity, long wished for, to transfer the naval arsenal 
to Spezzia, and to improve the port of Genoa, so 
that it might become, as its position and natural ad- 
vantages indicated that it should be, the centre of 
northern Italian commerce. A change of ministry, 
which proved only temporary, led to the retirement 
of Count Cavour from public office ; and he devoted 
this interval of relief from arduous toil to visiting 
England and France, and renewing, for a brief 
period, his friendly intercourse with the public men 
of those countries. While in England, he inspected 
the most abandoned and riotous quarters of London, 
under the care of a pohceman, looking upon these 
scenes of degradation with the practical eye of a 
philosophical economist. On his return he found 
Azegho on the point of resigning in consequence of 
disagreements with the papal emissaries. Cavour 



118 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBY. 

was intrusted with the seals, but failed to reconcile 
the contending claims of the pope and the king, and 
so resigned. He was the only man, however, who 
was equal to the emergency, and he was soon re- 
called, at the urgent solicitation of Victor Emmanuel, 
premising a condition that the demands of the papacy 
should be resisted at all hazards. He now assumed 
the direction of the administration for the first 
time, as president of the Council, and minister of 
finance. 

He had now reached the height of power, and his 
execution of the trust reposed in him fully justified 
his self-confidence. From this time until his decease, 
he held, with little interruption, the helm of state. 
His extensive improvements in commercial regula- 
tion, the impetus he imparted to agricultural enter- 
prise, the encouragement he gave to scientific and 
artistic endeavor, his zealous efforts to connect the 
great cities of his country by rail and telegraph, his 
straightforward and yet guarded transactions with 
foreign courts, the minute attention he bestowed upon 
the improvement of the lower classes, the vigor with 
which he opposed papal aggression, the interest he 
manifested in the mihtary department, and the faciHty 
with which he reconciled antagonistic elements in the 
legislature, entitle him to the homage of mankind for 
the greatness and virtue of his statesmanship. 

The Crimean war, which began in 1854, afforded 



COUNT CAVOUB. 119 

an opporturxity to display masterly skill in directing 
the course of Sardinia ; Cavour went beyond the ex- 
pectations of his countrymen in the success with 
which he emerged from this important crisis. Look- 
ing far into the future for the results of the step he 
was about to take, he at once recommended an alliance 
with the coalition ; and, in the midst of furious but 
unavailing opposition, he persuaded the Chamber to 
send twenty-five thousand men as the quota of Sar- 
dinia in the combined army. His ambition for his 
country discerned the time when Italy would compete 
with the Porte, France, and England for the su- 
premacy of the inland seas ; and he resolved that his 
influence, and that of Piedmont, should be thrown 
into the scale which should exclude Kussia from the 
competition. The wisdom of this policy, hazardous 
and foolhardy as it at first seemed, was afterwards 
recognized on all hands. The Sardinian troops be- 
haved in a manner which elicited the applause alike 
of their confederates and their opponents ; and thence 
is to be traced that martial spirit which has since 
shown itself in successful resistance to dangers threat- 
ening their immediate existence. 

To the Peace Congress which assembled in Paris 
at the conclusion of hostilities, to adjust the mutual 
relations of the great powers, Cavour, after a stren- 
uous opposition from the Austrian delegates, was 
admitted as the representative of the court of Sar- 



120 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

dinia ; and he embraced so favorable an opportunity 
of laying before the assembled statesmen the neces- 
sities, the distresses, and the hopes of his native 
country. He urged them to cooperate with the Pied- 
montese government in checking Austrian and papal 
domination over Italian territory, and proposed that 
all the powers should unite in a scheme to relieve the 
burden pressing upon that injured people. Although 
remonstrances so reasonable, and advocated with 
so much skill, did not produce the conviction san- 
guinely hoped for, they directed attention more par- 
ticularly to the existing evils, and prepared the way 
for the mature sympathy which attended the more 
recent struggles of the Italians for constitutional 
liberty. 

The imperial court, alarmed and exasperated at the 
favor with which the envoys of Piedmont had been 
received at the Peace Conference, now manifested a 
disposition to quarrel with the rising kingdom, and, 
if possible, to find an excuse for displaying Austrian 
bayonets beyond the Ticino. Diplomatic recrimina- 
tion having failed to subdue the spirit of Victor Em- 
manuel, the Austrian envoy at his court was recalled, 
which elicited a similar movement on his part. 
Cavour now saw that a terrible crisis was immi- 
nent, and involved in that crisis were all the great 
interests of his country. Sardinia was not yet com- 
pletely restored from the exhaustion which the former 



COUNT CAVOUR. 121 

disturbances had produced, and the premier dis- 
cerned the futility of an attempt on her part to cope 
alone with the fresh and well-disciplined multitudes 
of Austrian soldiery. To England he would natu- 
rally have looked for sympathy and cooperation in a 
distressing exigency ; but a misunderstanding, aris- 
ino^ out of a difference between the Eno^lish and Sar- 
dinian envoys with regard to the Danubian provinces, 
made a demand in that quarter inexpedient. 

He therefore made proposals to the Emperor Napo- 
leon, who not only listened with favor to his schemes 
for the regeneration of Italy, but entered into an 
alliance with Sardinia — - an event which was con- 
firmed by the marriage of Prince Napoleon, then 
heir presumptive of France, with the crown princess 
of Piedmont. Cavour, rejoiced to convey to his 
countrymen such welcome news, now set earnestly 
about putting the army and the fortifications on an 
efficient basis, and worked night and day in prepar- 
ing to resist every aggressive act of the enemy. At 
times he doubted whether Austria would thus rashly 
call down upon her conduct the reprehension of the 
civihzed world ; but he was soon convinced of her 
intentions, by the ultimatum of the Austrian ambas- 
sador, and his retirement in April. At Cavour's 
recommendation, dictatorial power was conferred pro 
tempore upon the king, the ultimatum was rejected, 
and almost immediately the Austrian forces advanced 
6 



122 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

within Italian territory. After some difficulty, a 
junction was effected by land and water between 
the allied forces ; and the world knows the result — 
the decisive victories, culminating on the field of 
Solferino. 

Cavour now saw almost consummated the great 
end of his existence — the enfranchisement of all 
Italy, and the union of the states into a vast confed- 
eracy. Austria was driven effectually from every 
province except Yenetia; and soon, thanks to the 
generosity of the French emperor and the valor of 
the French troops, that fair district would also, with- 
out doubt, participate in the freedom of her sister 
states. When, therefore, the news came to the ex- 
cited minister, that the two imperial generals had 
met at Villafranca, and, after a short conference, 
had concluded a treaty, by which Venetia continued 
under Austrian domination, he was thoroughly pros- 
trated by the suddenness and magnitude of the- blow. 
Impelled by bitter disappointment, which well nigh 
drove him at first to despair, he threw up the 
seals, quarrelled with the king, and retired to the 
family manor at Leri. There he diverted his mind 
from the topics which had previously absorbed his 
existence, but which now distressed him, by genial 
intercourse with the rural dignitaries who lived near 
him, by the pleasant recreations of agriculture, and 
by resorting for mental repose to the prolific store- 



COUNT QAVOUR. 123 

house of literature. Among those with whom he 
associated he was frank, unaffected, and genial ; and 
his manners, while they never lost that dignity which 
gentle birth and political importance alike sustained, 
were yet such as to win the confidence and esteem of 
all who approached him. 

The love of the people of Italy followed him to his 
peaceful retreat in the country ; their sympathy ac- 
corded with their reason in a thorough reliance upon 
his judgment and his patriotism. Vain were the at- 
tempts to form a government which did not recognize 
Cavour as its leading spirit. His return to the na- 
tional councils was indispensable to peace at home 
and safety abroad. The king sent for him, and they 
became friends again, never after to be separated ; 
and once more every citizen felt secure under the 
guidance of his good right hand. 

We need not refer to the circumstances which 
compelled his acquiescence in the treaty of Yilla- 
franca ; they are a part of the history of the day, and all 
of our readers are doubtless familiar with them. The 
question of the surrender of Savoy and Nice also, a 
measure which more tlian any other of his adminis- 
tration has diminished the popularity of Cavour, is 
one which has been so often and so fully discussed, 
that it need not be reverted to here. It would seem 
that the two considerations, that it was absolutely 
necessary to prevent French interference with politi- 



124 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

cal projects of the greatest magnitude, and that the 
question of separation was referred to the people of 
the provinces before the cession took place, are ade- 
quate reasons for his policy in that transaction. 

Cavour's brief retirement had invigorated his frame, 
and restored him fresh and cheerful to the momentous 
labors which now devolved upon him. He proceeded 
at once to take measures for strengthening and con- 
solidating the confederation which had been effected 
bj the late war. In the mean time a new source of 
anxiety to his government arose, from the revolu- 
tionary and heroic achievements of Garibaldi. That 
chieftain, burning with a fervent and inconsiderate 
patriotism, with a rapidity marvellous, and to Cavour 
alarming, drove the petty tyrants of Sicily from their 
province, and the Neapolitan monarch from his 
throne ; set up a provisional government in the 
metropolis ; and prepared to advance, with a rude 
but brave army, upon the papal possessions. Cavour 
saw nothing but ruin to the Italian cause in so pre- 
cipitate a conquest. He well knew that a victory 
would be fruitless which would certainly be con- 
demned by all the great powers, and that defeat 
would restore the infamous Francis to the throne of 
Naples. He avoided either alternative by marching 
a Sardinian army to form a junction with Garibaldi, 
displacing the martial government which had been 
erected at Naples, and relieving Garibaldi of the 



COUNT CAVOUR. 125 

command in chief. Thus with admirable tact he 
averted both collision with the French government, 
and a ruinous preponderance of the revolutionary 
faction in Southern Italy. 

The gallant hero, who had been so marvellously 
successful in the field, had unhappily fallen under 
the malign influence of Mazzini's followers, and was 
withal sorely disappointed at the sudden termination 
of his brilliant progress. He from that moment 
conceived a morbid dislike to the prime minister, 
which not a little injured the harmonious organiza- 
tion of the Italian kingdom. Having become the 
representative of a democratic constituency, he was 
so unwise as to attack with unpardonable virulence 
the statesman who, above all men, civilians or sol- 
diers, had brought Italy to its present proud position. 
Cavour, with a condescension which elicited universal 
applause, showed himself quick to forgive the impet- 
uous expressions of one who had displayed so warm 
a patriotism ; and a reconciliation — unfortunately a 
reconciliation but in name — took place, shortly be- 
fore Cavour 's death, between the two greatest Ital- 
ians of the present century. 

The minister meanwhile was attentively absorbed 
in the provisional governments of the several states, 
and in furthering defences and improvements through- 
out Italy. With a skill unsurpassed in the history of 
ancient or modern statesmanship, he fused the dis- 



126 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

cordant institutions and prejudices of Piedmont and 
Naples, Genoa and Lombaadj, Venice and Sicily, 
into a harmonious and well-balanced system. The 
space allowed us will not permit a survey of the va- 
rious alterations he introduced into the constitution : 
this belongs peculiarly to the province of the future 
historian of Italy. Suffice it to say, that the system 
erected mainly by his efforts commands the approba- 
tion of the -most enlio-htened statesmen and econo- 
mists of the civilized world, and that its beneficial 
fruits are already appearing in a rapidly growing 
commerce, an enthusiastic national spirit, and the in- 
creasing interest manifested in all the institutions of 
religion, learning, and benevolence. 

In the midst of such glorious labors. Count Cavour 
was marked by the destroyer ; and while his country 
more than ever needed his stately intellect, he was 
about to pass to other worlds. On the 30th of May, 
1861, he had a chill, and he himself prescribed bleed- 
ing. The next day he gave audience to a deputy 
who had just returned from Naples ; and so exciting 
was the discussion during that interview, that he be- 
came rapidly worse, and so continued till June 4, 
when the conviction sadly forced itself upon his phy- 
sicians, that further attempts to check the fever would 
be futile. He had been excommunicated from the 
church by the bulls of Pius ; nevertheless, Fr^ 
Giacomo, a near personal friend, consented to ad- 



COUNT CAVOUB. 127 

minister to his dying patron the holy sacrament. 
That scene must have been deeply impressive. Be- 
low in the street were a multitude of hushed and 
mourning citizens, assembled at the last solemn rite 
in which their great friend was to participate. As 
the holy father ascended the broad portico which led 
to the palace, attended by the sacred paraphernalia 
of the church, the gTief of the populace became evi- 
dent in uncontrollable sobs and moans. Within the 
ample edifice lay the dying statesman, surrounded by 
the relatives and friends he loved so well, his intellect 
clear and calm, his whole mind intent upon the cere- 
mony of which he was about to be the central figure. 
After the sacrament had been administered, he enjoyed 
a few hours of peaceful rest ; and in the evening the 
king came to that final parting which was to bereave 
him of a strong and trusty pilot. The interview was 
pathetic beyond description. The distinction between 
king and subject was lost in the love between man 
and man. On the 6th of June, Camillo di Cavour 
ceased to live, passing gently away, his departure 
hardly perceptible to those who watched his every 
breath. The public grief was profound and univer- 
sal. All business and pleasure were abandoned out 
of respect to the memory of the great deceased. It 
was as if the chill spirit of Death brooded over every 
household, — as if in his death each family had lost a 
common parent. 



128 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

Well might city and country be hushed in gloom ; 
well might the beautiful land be shrouded in univer- 
sal sorrow. In him they had lost one who was to 
them as Washington was to us ; and he had been 
taken, not as Washington was taken, in the evening 
of his life, and under the security of a completed 
structure, but while many years seemed still in store 
for him, and in the midst of a work in which order 
had yet hardly emerged from the chaos of revolution. 
Happily for them, another statesman was found, who, 
though he could not fill the place made vacant by the 
great calamity, has nevertheless exhibited an ability 
and judgment equal to the demands of his position. 

While a contemplation of Count Cavour's public 
career must ehcit the highest respect for his genius 
and virtue, the record of his private excellence calls 
forth our love. Although he never entered into the 
noblest and wisest of domestic relations, he was yet 
renowned for love of social intercourse, for the vivaci- 
ty and wit of his conversation, and for a benevolence 
which never slumbered. Throughout a life of almost 
uninterrupted toil, his temper remained sweet and for- 
giving, his manner retained its original elegance and 
kindliness, and his heart continued to beat in cordial 
sympathy with those to whom he was attached in 
friendship. Political life did not contract his mind, 
as it is very apt to do, to a mere capacity for fulfilling 
its requirements. He possessed and cultivated a rare 



COUNT CAVOUB. 129 

taste for art and science, took a lively interest in the 
pursuits of gardening and farming, and enjoyed with 
genuine zest the relief which a refined and brilliant so- 
cial circle gave from the weary hours of official labor. 
Such a character is seldom found in the annals of 
statesmanship and patriotism, — which too often teem 
with the evidences of selfishness, cruelty, and corrup- 
tion. As an illustrious representative of the great 
principles of free government, we of America will- 
ingly place his name in envied proximity to that of 
our own beloved Washington. When the present 
exists only in history, and a future empire, extending 
from the Alps to the Sicilies, shall recognize but one 
sovereign through all its classic territory, the name 
of Cavour will be ensln:ined alone in the innermost 
Italian heart, and will be an inspiration to the noblest 
deeds. 

6* 



VII. 

THE LAST DAYS OF CHATHAM. 

FEW incidents of history are more touching or 
more memorable than the death of a great 
statesman or soldier while in the discharge of his duty. 
To be called away in the freshness of intellectual vigor, 
in presence of co-workers, and while exerting energy 
in behalf of one's country, is an event reserved for a 
few, and fails not to enhance the glory of a well-spent 
life. So died the great Earl of Chatham. His fame 
had surpassed that of all his predecessors in the 
public arena of Great Britain. He had risen from a 
middle rank to the first honors of the state. By a 
brilliant eloquence, an accurate knowledge of detail, 
and a proud and uncompromising spirit, he had suc- 
cessfuUy opposed the ministry of Newcastle, and had 
become himself the controller of the destinies of the 
British empire. A war, unsurpassed for centuries in 
the magnitude of its operations and the importance of 
its results, had been conducted by him with success, 
and had been brought to an honorable and glorious 

termination. After leading for many years the lower 

(130) 



THE LAST DAYS OF CHATHAM, 131 

House of Parliament, he had been rewarded in his old 
age with an earldom, and reflected honor upon the 
hereditary legislators of the realm bj his presence 
among them. 

By the grace of his manner and the finish of his 
address, he had obscured the declining years of the 
versatile Chesterfield. By his sonorous and thrilling 
diction, he had snatched from the brow of Carteret 
the laurel which had been awarded to him by the 
common acquiescence of his countrymen. By his 
energetic legislation, he had eclipsed the renown 
which a haughty posterity had claimed with justice 
for Halifax and Walpole, Oxford and Pelham. By 
the eartnestness and consistency of his devotion to 
the common weal, he had shared with Sidney and 
Milton the love and confidence with which a people 
ever regard those who are zealous for their honor. 
By the impassioned philippics which he directed 
against those arbitrary ministers who, in spite of the 
remonstrances of public opinion, had persisted in 
declaring " taxation no tyranny " towards the American 
colonies, he secured to himself the esteem of a great 
nation and their descendants through all time. 
Against the hatred of the reigning sovereign, against 
the prejudices of a proud and insolent nobility, against 
the opposition of a shallow but avowed favorite, 
against the wealth, talent, and prestige of the entire 
Tory influence; amid the gloom of impending 



132 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

tyranny, the operation of every foul art, and the 
propagation of every absurd slander, this great man 
had stood forth in a valiant defence of constitutional 
privilege and the claims of a people disinthr ailed. 
N^o one could doubt the sincerity of a man who could 
for years reject the most alluring offices of honor and 
emolument, and resist, though possessing an ambi- 
tious spirit, the venal offers of corrupt ministers. No 
aspersion could be cast upon the character of one who 
remained, during the flower of his manhood and his 
glory, on the benches of a hopeless opposition, and in 
spite of court, majorities, and the oft-repeated taunts 
of such hirelings as Fox and Doddington, continued 
to avow and to urge the doctrines from which he had 
never swerved. Gradually he had attached to him- 
self the favor of an immense majority of his country- 
men ; and the king, though cordially detesting him, 
was forced to admit him to the highest trust within 
the reach of a British subject. 

His body, long tried by distressing and dangerous 
disease, had, for some time previous to his death, 
given evidence of an approaching dissolution. The 
activity of his mental faculties, however, discovered 
no abatement ; and in spite of corporeal pain, he con- 
tinued to arraign in the upper House the ministers 
whose errors were gradually involving his country in 
calamity. In the intellectual vigor of the prime of 
life, when men commonly put forth their best energies, 



TEE LAST DAYS OF CHATHAM. 133 

and when he thought he discerned in coming events 
the downfall of his enemies and the establishment of 
those principles which it had been his life-long labor 
to achieve, he was struck down in his place of duty 
and of honor, before his opponents and his confeder- 
ates, in presence of a multitude petrified by the great 
calamity which now befell the nation. What a scene 
does this present ! The most illustrious of living 
statesmen felled by the dread destroyer in the midst 
of his appeals for justice and liberty ! The most elo- 
quent of living orators struck down, even while the 
silver tones which had thrilled thousands of his coun- 
trymen were filling with their earnest pathos the hall 
of Westminster, and as the fire of his great spirit 
burst from that eagle eye ! 

The place, the occasion, the audience there assem- 
bled, were appropriate to such an event. It was on 
the spot where the cowardly and despotic John had 
been compelled by the barons of England to affirm 
the Magna Charta of their liberties. It was the hall 
where each succeeding Plantagenet had reaffirmed 
with solemn oaths the obligations of that great instru- 
ment. It was the hall in which had resounded the 
earnest and passionate eloquence of Shaftesbury, 
Hampden, and Russell, in behalf of the rights of man. 
It was the hall in which, at the close of the preceding 
century, William Prince of Orange had assumed the 
throne left vacant by the flight of the lawful sovereign, 



134 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

and had affixed a willing sign-manual to the Declara- 
tion of Rights. The same precincts had been for 
more than a quarter of a century the scene of his own 
victorious progress, where he had compelled the 
attention of an unwilling audience, where he had 
successfully restrained the excesses of a powerful 
ministry, where he had defended the virtue and capa- 
city of the people against the undue influence of 
exclusive oligarchists, where he had won the love of 
friends, the respect of enemies, and the admiration 
of foreign powers. It was a fit spot whereon to ter- 
minate such a life. 

The occasion was marked by a renewal of the 
bitter discussions between the advocates of taxation 
without representation and the advocates of the right 
of colonies to tax themselves, or, if taxed by others, 
to be admitted into an equal position in the body 
which claimed the right to tax them. A war was rag- 
ing in the western continent, provoked by a dogged^ 
determination of ministers, instigated by an arbitrary 
king, to test the power of the home government to 
enforce taxation. That struggle had been foreseen 
by Pitt, and in tones of prophetic warning he had 
deprecated the rash purpose of the cabinet. He had 
depicted with glowing language the wickedness of 
such a step, and turning from the assertion of princi- 
ple to the consideration of expediency, he had de- 
monstrated the natural advantage, the earnest spirit, 



TEE LAST DAYS OF CHATHAM. 135 

and the unanimous sentiment of the trans- Atlantic 
provinces, proving hovr useless and how destructive 
was the attempt to subdue them. On the fatal day, 
the proud but courteous Richmond, afterwards him- 
self a convert to the cause of the colonies, had been 
sneering at their resistance, and counselling a vigor- 
ous prosecution of military subjugation. The last 
words of the Great Commoner sent a thrill of pride 
through his adherents, and dismay among the ranks 
of the party in power : " Do justice to America ! Do 
it to-night ! Do it ere you sleep ! " Thus were the 
last moments of this illustrious person employed in 
stirring appeals to the nobles of England in behalf 
of a distant and a distressed people. 

He attempted to proceed, but the touch of death 
was on him, and he sank in an apopletic fit in the 
arms of the lords near him. After lingering a short 
time, he died in the presence of his bereaved wife and 
children. 

The scene was not more remarkable for the fitness 
of the occasion and the place, than for the illustrious 
array of persons who were present at the downfall of 
their great contemporary. It is true that many of 
the master-minds, with whom he had waged a success- 
ful warfare, no longer frequented the scenes of their 
renown and of his victories. Henry Fox, a rival 
worthy of his metal, whose keen logic had proved 
almost a match for that brilliant diction which de- 



136 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

spised the restraint of detail and statistics, had pre- 
ceded him to the great judgment-seat.. The courtly 
Chesterfield no longer entranced coronetted beauties 
by the grace of his bow, and had ceased to lend a 
searching sarcasm to the cause of deposed sover- 
eignty. The voice of the handsome and impulsive 
Carteret, who for the splendor of his oratory was only 
surpassed by Chatham Jiimself, was hushed in the 
silence of the grave. Murray had retired to the 
stately seclusion of the King's Bench. Montagu was 
no longer the patron of letters, the confidant of sov- 
ereigns, the complete master of finance. 

But of the generation of great minds then in its 
zenith, and of that golden age of intellect which was 
just opening, many lent their presence to the closing 
scene in the life of their contemporary and instructor. 
The gentle and lovable Rockingham and the digni- 
fied Shelbume looked with pride upon a death-scene 
made glorious by the intrepid advocacy of their cher- 
ished principles. Lord North, whose bitter Toryism 
did not obstruct a kind spirit and a winning manner, 
viewed with regret the declining life of the highest 
ornament of Great Britain, and forgot partisan an- 
tipathy in the grief of friendship. The proud Bed- 
ford, the versatile Carlisle, and the generous Devon- 
shire, mourned the death of one whose name had 
reflected honor on their hereditary order, and to 
whose genius the most ancient and renowned houses 



THE LAST DAYS OF CHATHAM. 137 

in the land gave a willing and an enthusiastic homage. 
All alike of those who had been the witnesses of his 
active career, Tories and Whigs, friends of the king 
and friends of the colonies, aristocrats, gentlemen, 
and commoners, were cognizant of the calamity 
which befell the nation in the departure of so mag- 
nanimous and so noble an intellect. 

There, too, were present that trio of splendid 
minds who in the succeeding era amazed mankind by 
their grand conflicts in eloquence and legislation. 
There Burke, risen so far in the scale of distinction 
that he began to be talked about as a promising 
orator, heard with delight the magic words which in- 
spired all his future life with the spirit of political 
liberty. There the younger Fox, the son of the 
foremost rival of Chatham, and himself in after years 
a greater rival of a greater Pitt, heard the passionate 
tones which had again and again driven his father 
vanquished from a well-contested field. There the 
younger Pitt, leaning on the banister which sepa- 
rated the spectators from the peers, listened with 
wonder to the marvellous eloquence which was his 
greatest heritage, and which he of all Englishmen 
alone rivalled. There Sheridan, just rising from the 
affectation of the actor to the dignity of the legislator, 
and his fervid spirit burning with zeal for liberty, 
caught the inspiration of the great soul just departing, 
and consecrated his future efforts to the cause of pop- 



138 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

ular rights. Perhaps, too, the mysterious terror of 
ministers and the hidden, good right hand which had 
lashed corruption on every side, but which had paused 
with reverence before the name of Chatham, perhaps 
Junius was there, contemplating the fall of so much 
greatness, and picturing to himself, with a spirit of 
gloomy prophecy, the future disasters of the empire. 
Chatham had ceased to hold that magic influence 
over the masses which had enabled him to sustain 
himself so long in a suspicious and hostile court. No 
popular acclamations had lately greeted his carriage 
as it rolled from Hayes to Westminster Hall. May- 
ors and corporations no longer presented him the 
freedom of cities in gold boxes. His power as a 
statesman fled when his empty grandeur as a peer 
began. He left that body in which all his triumphs 
had been won, and in which, had he continued there, 
many would have yet been in store for him, and 
seated himself among the hereditary nobles, shorn of 
the strength he had retained so long. Obsequious 
even to servility, he had allowed himself to be cajoled 
by the crown in his old age, which he had disdained 
in the pride of his early days. Nevertheless, his 
death was mourned with one accord throughout the 
entire nation. All felt that the country had lost its 
brightest ornament. Parliament hastened to vote a 
public funeral and a monument, the payment of his 
debts, and a provision for his family. Not a word of 



TEE LAST BATS OF CHATHAM, 139 

remonstrance or opposition was heard in either house. 
It was a matter of course that he should be borne 
with the greatest pomp and state to the final home of 
so many illustrious Englishmen, and that he should 
be laid in the great Abbey, beside Bacon and New- 
ton, Milton and Shakspeare, Russell and Locke. 

On the day of burial the great metropolis was as 
hushed as on the Sabbath. Business was abandoned 
and pleasure suspended, while the great living were 
paying their final tribute to the great dead. The 
proudest nobles vied with each other for prominence 
in the melancholy pageant. The descendant of the 
Cavendishes and the excellent Rockingham supported 
the shield emblazoned with the arms of the noble 
house of Chatham. Edmund Burke, Lord George 
Savile, and Lord Ashburton bore the pall upon which 
rested the remains of the deceased. Thus, attended 
by the first of the land, was the Great Commoner laid 
by the side of those who had gone before him, having 
died amid the applause of their countrymen. No one 
of all that splendid array, whose praises were recorded 
on the magnificent shafts wliich had been reared above 
them, had left a more virtuous or a more exalted rep- 
utation than did their new companion in that stately 
solitude. While his contemporaries were not ashamed 
to use the arts of corruption and intrigue to gain a 
majority of the lower House, and while Henry Fox 
was so base as to insist on having the privilege 



140 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

of bribing the members, the pure spirit of Chatham 
had proudly disdained to degmde himself by such an 
artifice, and had left to the cunning Newcastle and 
the unprincipled Legge the application of secret ser- 
vice-money and pensions. 

Ambitious to a fault, imperious to his equals and 
inferiors, neglecting the courtesies which distinguished 
the elegant society around him, and too proud to 
compromise even for the national good, his career 
compensated for these venial deficiencies by the purity 
and integrity which were never once violated. Con- 
sistent to the last in his hatred of tyranny, in his op- 
position to Jacobitical treachery, and in a dignified and 
earnest assertion of the just rights of the governed, 
he was yet so ingenuous as to change his principles, 
when persuaded that to change them was to do right. 
The pertinacity with which he adhered to a remorse- 
less war policy, in which, no doubt, ambition for 
glory got the mastery over patriotism, and which 
is indefensible, is the greatest stain on this great 
man's public character, and is ill balanced by the 
splendid victories which were achieved. He lived an 
enthusiast for the extension of freedom ; not like some 
modem fanatics, looking forward to a period of Uto- 
pian bliss, and attempting to destroy every social 
barrier to attain impossible ends, but, like Webster, 
zealous for the preservation of rational restraint, and 
devoted to the attainment of intelligent liberty. And 



TEE LAST DAYS OF CHATHAM. 141 

he died universally revered ; by his enemies, for his 
candor and his constant manly bearing ; by his friends, 
for his generosity, his devotion to their cause, his 
steady friendship ; by other nations, for his zeal in 
behalf of all oppressed mankind ; and he has been 
revered by succeeding generations, for the example 
of a life devotion to principle, which was the crown- 
ing glory of his career. 



VIII. 

LEIGH HUNT. 

THE regency and reign of George the Fourth, dis- 
graced as they were by the profligacy of the sov- 
ereign and the easy morality of his court, were, never- 
theless, brilliant in military achievements, and in the 
creations of Kterary and aesthetic genius. The preced- 
ing age had produced no such generals as WelKngton 
and Uxbridge, no such poets as Byron, Coleridge, and 
Wordsworth, no such novelist as Scott, no such 
critics as Lord Francis Jeffrey and Sir James Mack- 
intosh. The arts of literature, which had become 
heavy and methodical by the too sensitive ear of Pope, 
the graceful monotony of Addison, and the ponderous 
genius of Johnson, were in this period restored to a 
vigorous independence, such as gave full vent to those 
illustrious writers who adorned the otherwise splen- 
did reign of Elizabeth. A few years ago some of the 
foremost of those who figured as reformers in George's 
reign were yet living — Rogers, De Quincey, Moore, 
Wordsworth, Talfourd. Now but one remains to 
represent that brilliant era. Lord Brougham still 

(142) 



LEIGH HUNT. 143 

lives to adorn Westminster Hall by his yet stirring 
eloquence, to elevate science by his patient and pene- 
trating research, and to enrich letters by a critical 
ability and a memory rich in historic lore, such as 
few men possess in the prime of life. 

A consideration of the literature of the period 
referred to discovers great variety, both in the current 
of thought and in the different styles v^hich gave it 
expression. This is more especially the case with 
the poets ; and from this diversity a natural conse- 
quence was, that literary men separated into cliques, 
each adopting peculiar shades of sentiment or diction, 
and each bitterly antagonistic to all the others. 
Thus arose different schools of poetry, all agreeing, 
perhaps, in rejecting the poets of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, as enslaved by the empire of rhythm over ideas, 
all eschewing the rules enounced by the schools of 
which Pope and Goldsmith were representatives, but 
seeking, each after its own peculiar system, to reform 
and to elevate \>j widely diverging methods. Of 
the new generation of poets, Lord Byron rose first, 
and assumed for a while the dictatorship of poetry and 
of popular applause. As his rise was sudden, so was 
his downfall ; and after being alternately flattered by 
the higliest encomiums^ and condemned by the bitter- 
est sneers, of his countrymen, he finally was entirely 
superseded by other schools. Then the " Lake poets," 
.at first and for many years assailed by the fiercest 



144 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

enmity of an almost unanimous critical opinion, and 
doomed by the most powerful censors to oblivion 
and ignominy, slowly approached the public ear, and 
finally established themselves securely in the popular 
esteem. Of the Lake school, Coleridge, Southey, 
and Wordsworth were the shining lights ; and they, 
uniting on common ground in their political, religious, 
and literary opinions, first opened a new path into 
which poetic inspiration should be directed, going 
back to the Elizabethan era in their disregard of met- 
rical accuracy. While this coterie was yet strug- 
ghng for supremacy, there appeared, trumpeted by 
Leigh Hunt in " The Examiner," what their contem- 
porary enemies contemptuously called the " Cockney 
school," of which Keats became the martyr and 
Shelley the hope. Attracted by the erratic genius of 
the one, and by the independent mind and warm heart 
of the other. Hunt proposed to himself the- glory of 
heralding the approach of a new era, which should 
eclipse the fairest periods of poetical history. The 
novel opinions to which the revolutionists of France 
gave birth, harmonizing with their enthusiastic spirits, 
became the creed of the Cockneys ; and their issues 
were heresies, the more dangerous because clothed in 
the alluring splendor of poetry. The result of so ill- 
judged an attempt to seduce public sentiment from an 
appreciation of healthy to a taste for morbid literature, 
was a just retribution upon its authors ; for Shelley 



LEIGH HUNT. 145 

was not only expelled from the University of Oxford 
for atheistical opinions, but was shunned alike by 
literary men and by the public ; and Keats, after in- 
sanely endeavoring to gain for himself national favor, 
received, at the hands of the " Quarterly Review," 
a fatal blow to his current reputation, if not to his 
enduring fame. Leigh Hunt was endowed with 
much less genius, less independence, and more fore- 
sight, than his unfortunate friends. His writings 
evinced less originality, less brilliancy of imagination, 
less startling scepticism. He therefore escaped the 
withering rebukes of those critics who assumed, and 
soon acquired, the position of oracles. His mind, 
too, was more healthily organized than those of 
Shelley and Keats ; and instead of rushing headlong 
into the wild theories of Voltaire, he rejected the doc- 
trine of " liberty, equality, fraternity," as interpreted 
by the Jacobins and RepubKcans, and clung to limited 
monarchy with all its faults. 

For several generations the ancestors of Leigh 
Hunt, on his father's side, were natives of Barbadoes ; 
and his great-grandfather, grandfather, and father 
were all clergymen of the established church of 
England. Isaac Hunt, at an early age, was sent to 
college in Philadelphia, and afterwards in New York. 
It was at the latter place, as Leigh tells us, that a 
romantic incident occurred, which was materially to 
affect his future. When he was delivering his oration, 
7 



146 GLIMPSES OF BISTORT. 

at the close of his collegiate course, two young ladies 
among his audience, charmed, doubtless, no less by his 
graceful delivery and flowing style, than by his blue 
eyes and well-chiselled features, were so indiscreet as 
to fall in love with him. With one of them he was 
equally well pleased, and after a courtship which 
seems to have derived its chief charm from mutual 
recitations of the poets, they were married. It is an 
amusing feature of this incident, that the two ladies 
stood to each other in the relation of aunt and niece, 
though they were nearly of the same age. 

The mother of Leigh Hunt was a daughter of 
Stephen She well, a Philadelphia merchant of wealth, 
and of Quaker descent. Dr. FrankKn was intimate 
at his house, and once offered to teach Miss Shewell 
the guitar ; but she was too shy to accept his tutor- 
ship. Mr. Isaac Hunt was at first destined for the 
church ; but showing a disinclination to that profes- 
sion, he began the study of law in Philadelphia. 
When the revolution broke out, he warmly espoused 
the cause of the king ; and so earnest was he in the 
expression of his opinions, that he was mobbed by 
the populace. He was obliged to escape by stealth 
from the city, and succeeded in reaching a ship bound 
for England. He now entered the church ; and when 
Mrs. Hunt afterwards joined him, she found him offi- 
ciating as rector of Bentinck Chapel at Paddington. 
He afterwards became tutor to Mr. Leigh, nephew of 



LEIGH HUNT. 147 

the Duke of Chandos, the gentleman for whom he 
named the subject of this sketch. He seems at this 
time to have had high hopes of a bishopric, through 
the influence of the diike, his patron ; but he never 
rose above the rectorship of a popuhir chapel. As 
Leigh Hunt describes his father, we cannot help 
assimilating him to Thackeray's character of Charles 
Honeyman, in " The N^ewcomes," with his smooth, 
liquid voice, his flowing style, his studied grace, his 
sleek appearance, and his occasional convivial indiscre- 
tions. He seems to have loved gayety and fun, and to 
have cared more for worldly comfort than for spirit- 
ual food. His indolence soon reduced him to poverty ; 
and although he had been popular as a preacher, he 
now found but few friends to relieve him. From a 
High-Churchman and a Tory, he became a Universalist 
and a semi-Republican ; and these later views of the 
father were inculcated in his early lessons to his son, 
who adhered to them through life. Mrs. Hunt is 
described by her son as a sensitive woman, keenly 
alive to the appearance of distress, melancholy, but 
withal of STcat moral courao:e. 

Leigh Hunt was born on the 19th of October, 
1784, at Southgate, a beautiful village in Middlesex; 
a spot also known as the resting-place of Coleridge 
and Lamb, and formerly as the residence of Arbuth- 
not, xYkenside, Shelley, and Keats. He was a sickly 
child, and the village physician used to predict that 



148 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

he would die an idiot before he was fifteen. He was 
early sent to France to improve his health ; and such 
was the watchful solicitude of his mother, that he 
finally grew up a healthy, bright-eyed lad, ready at 
all times for study or frolic. As he became more 
mature, his character developed partly kfter the dis- 
position of his father, and partly after that of his 
mother. At times he would be happy and boisterous, 
and, donning his childish sword and cap, he would 
amuse himself with military sports ; at other times he 
would become grave and solemn, and stealthily ab- 
stracting his father's surplice and bands from the 
closet, would proceed to deliver a pompous homily to 
the astonished and dehghted servant-maid. 

His early childhood was passed during a period 
peculiarly eventful in the history of England. The 
American revolution, in which both his parents had 
a personal interest, had but a Httle before his. birth 
resulted in the success of the colonies. The French 
revolution was approaching, and ere long would 
burst upon the doomed people, and at one blow shake 
philosophy, religion, social order, and political sys- 
tem to their foundations. Burke, Fox, and Pitt 
were rising to the leadership of the House of Com- 
moms ; Goldsmith and Johnson had just disappeared 
forever from the scenes of their enduring triumphs ; 
Cowper was the presiding genius of poetry; the 
Empress Catharine was startling Europe by her mas- 



LEIOH HUNT. 149 

culine energy; Great Britain was on the verge of 
passing from the government of a crazy father to 
that of a licentious and indolent son ; Voltaire and 
Paine were attracting to their intellectual dominion 
the flower of the continental youth ; Gibbon was 
alluring, by his specious sophistry, the minds of men 
from the perception of the true influence of Chris- 
tianity ; Sheridan was the dictator of the drama ; 
and Mrs. Siddons was just engaging the applause of 
the British public by her majestic presence and won- 
derful passion. Hunt's early recollection teemed 
with such remembrances as these. He had seen Pitt 
in the House of Commons appealing to his colleagues 
with a " loud, important, and hollow voice ; " he had 
looked with wonder upon Home Tooke, whom he 
had been taught to believe a man of surprising learn- 
ing and sagacity ; he had met John Wilkes and 
Charles Townshend, and was thus enabled to con- 
trast the ugliest and the handsomest man of the 
time ; he had listened with rapture to the queen of 
the British stage ; he had been charmed with the 
matchless beauty of the Duchess of Devonshire. 

In 1792 he was admitted a student in the school 
of Christ's Hospital, which was originally intended 
by Edward the Sixth as a foundation for poor orphan 
children born in London, but which afterwards ex- 
tended its benefits to the middle classes as well as the 
lower. In this school had been educated some of the 



150 GLIMPSES OF EISTOET. 

first writers and scholars of England — Richardson, 
the genial author of " Pamela " and " Clarissa ; " 
Bishop Stilling-fleet, whose courtlj eloquence charmed 
the nobility of Queen Anne's time ; Mitchell, the 
translator of Aristophanes ; Home, the theologian ; 
Barnes, for many years editor of "The Times;" 
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and Charles Lamb. 

Leigh Hunt was placed in the grammar school, 
devoted to the instruction of those who intended pur- 
suing the liberal professions. Many are the amusing 
incidents of his school days with which he entertains 
us ; how the quaint dresses of the scholars used to 
astonish the passers in the street ; how, indignant at 
the cruelty of one of the larger scholars towards a 
smaller, he soundly thrashed the bully, and humbled 
him ; how the master, Boyer, was a tyrant after the 
fashion of Squeers, and seemed to delight in punish- 
ing poor Leigh for stammering ; how they were 
preached to alternately by exceedingly prosy and ex- 
ceedingly energetic divines ; how all the boys looked 
up to a Grecian, and how the Grecians used to walk 
straight forward, overturning wdth exquisite com- 
posure the smaller urchins who happened to be in 
their path; how many a cunning trick, sometimes 
successful, sometimes abortive, was played upon the 
dreaded master, and how a spirited boy once in a 
while braved his fury, and by impudence conquered 
him ; how he once saw Lamb, " with his fine inteUi- 



LEIGH HUNT. 151 

gent face," on a visit to his Alma Mater ; with what 
enthusiasm . he spent his sixpences at the book-stall 
round the corner, on a humble edition of the poets ; 
how he learned to appreciate Homer and Ovid, to 
love Goldsmith and Pope, to study Atterbury and 
Wharton ; how he formed friendships lasting and de- 
lightful, which were always to be kept fresh; and 
with what tearful regret he finally left that scene of 
his joys and sorrows and his best friendships, and, 
assuming a hat and coat, entered once more the 
bustling world. It is the old story of school life in 
England, vividly told, and rich in pleasant details, 
attractive alike by its simplicity and its enthusiasm. 

While at this school he became intimate with two 
families, of which he speaks with such affectionate 
interest that we cannot avoid noticing them. One 
was that of Benjamin West, F. R. S., the illustrious 
painter and elegant gentleman. Mr. W^est had mar- 
ried a relative of Mrs. Hunt, and was an American 
by birth. In his house Leigh was ever welcome, 
and many were the delightful hours he spent there. 
He says of Mr. West, " He was a man with mild, 
regular features, and, though of Quaker origin, 
looked what he was, a painter to the court. His ap- 
pearance was so gentlemanly, that the moment he 
changed his gown for a coat he seemed to be full 
dressed." The young scholar was wont to wander 
with rapture among the productions of the artist's 



152 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

pencil ; rapt in admiration at Sir Philip Sidney 
giving up the water to the dying soldier ; awe- 
stricken at the wild brilliancy of Ophelia's counte- 
nance ; inspired with pious reverence as he gazed 
upon the calm, perfect face of Christ Healing the 
Sick. He says, "My mother and I used to go down 
the gallery as if we were treading on wool." The 
quiet kindness of the Wests, the pleasant humor of 
the artist, and the always cheerful welcome, awaken 
warm remembrances of those delightful visits. Nor 
does he forget to mention the footman, who figured 
in his master's pictures as an apostle, and the butler, 
who wore his own likeness with proud ostentation on 
his shirt bosom. 

The other family of which he retains pleasant rem- 
iniscences was that of Mr. Godfrey Thornton, who 
lived in Austin Friars. There his recollections teem 
with lawns and rich gardens, cordial welcomes and 
music, hospitality and female loveliness, a union of 
gayety and of intellectual delight. 

Leigh's first love was Fanny Dayrell, his cousin, a 
bright West Indian lass, who, as being older than 
liimself, used to dampen his ardor by contemptuously 
calling him petit gargon. She soon after married, 
and they were separated for many years ; but when 
they again met, after many vicissitudes to both, Leigh 
confesses to an emotion for which he had to seek his 
vdfe's forgiveness. 



LEIGH HUNT. 153 

After leavinG: school he turned his attention to the 
study of the profession which he had determined to 
follow — the unsubstantial profession of literature. 
In 1802 his father published a volume of his verses, 
which, according to himself and every one else, were 
wretched. Nevertheless, the critics dealt with it with 
unaccountable gentleness, and for a time he was quite 
a Hon amono' the literati. He then became much 
interested in two subjects — the stage- and military 
life. Bonaparte was threatening to crown his victo- 
rious course by achieving the conquest of England. 
Volunteers were forthcoming in multitudes, and com- 
panies were set to drilling throughout the kingdom. 
Leigh Hunt enlisted, but was soon discharged, with 
the rest of the valorous youth, when the imagined 
occasion disappeared. He attended the opera and 
theatre sedulously, and gives us charming descrip- 
tions of the eminent artists of the day. Catalani, 
with her wonderful vocal volume ; Grassini, with her 
superb contralto ; Pasta, uniting grace and tender- 
ness ; Jack Bannister, with his fair, round John Bull 
face and hearty honesty; Munden, exciting a roar 
without uttering a sound ; Kemble, with his Roman 
stateliness and sonorous declamation ; Siddons, with 
her dreary and terrible majesty ; Mrs. Jordan, with 
her fine spirits and happy countenance, — all appear 

to us, through our author's delineation, moving, speak- 

7 * 



154 GLIMPSES OF HIS TOBY. 

ing, provoking us to sadness, mirth, and wonder, as 
they did the generation of fifty years ago. 

It was at this time that he wrote his first prose, 
confining himself mainly to theatrical criticism, which 
he contributed to a paper called "The Traveller." 
These essays were little better than his verses had 
been ; they nevertheless gained for him a species of 
popularity. He devoted himself more earnestly than 
ever to books, among which the novels of Fielding, 
Smollett, Radcliffe, and La Fontaine were his es- 
pecial favorites. This taste for novel-reading contin- 
ued throuo^h life. Few will a2:ree with his strictures 
on historians, for whom he entertained but little re- 
spect ; and his censure of them, as "assuming a 
dignity for which I saw no particular grounds, as 
unpliilosophic and ridiculous in their avoidance of 
personal anecdote, and, above all, as being narrow- 
minded and time-serving in confining their subjects to 
wars and party government," is unjust, exaggerated, 
and, as applied to the majority, totally false. But 
the writer for whom he evinces the most entire admi^ 
ration is Voltaire. This enemy of religion and order 
he erects into a noble reformer ; he contrives to find 
in him the most exalted virtues, while his vices are 
either ignored or rapidly passed over. It was un- 
doubtedly this author who imbued Leigh Hunt with 
those revolutionary ideas which afterwards brought 
upon him merited misfortune and obloquy. He be- 



LEIGH HUNT. 155 

came a member of a debating club, among whose 
members were Thomas Wilde, afterwards Lord Chan- 
cellor Truro, and Frederick Poilok, now chief baron 
of the exchequer ; but a habit of stammering, which 
rendered it exceedingly difficult for him to speak in 
public, induced him to leave this assembly, and de- 
termined him against the pursuit of a political career. 
In the year 1805 his brother, John Hunt, estab- 
lished a paper called " The News," and Leigh was 
engaged to contribute to it the department of theatri- 
cal criticism. He determined to break loose from the 
custom which uniformly prevailed among critics, of 
exchanging compliments with the actors, and barter- 
ing puffs for tickets and suppers. He dashed about 
indiscriminately on the stage, doomed Betty to obliv- 
ion, assailed Kemble with a force which he imagined 
would annihilate the great Shakspearian, and sought, 
at the age of twenty-one, to obliterate the fame of 
" The Rivals " and " The School for Scandal." These 
criticisms were published in a volume in 1807. The 
project of " The News " having failed of success, the 
brothers Hunt again essayed as journalists, and in 
1808 " The Examiner " appeared as the result of 
their plans. It was the intention of the proprietors 
to make this journal the organ of the radical Reform- 
ists, of the ultra liberal theologians, and of indepen- 
dent literary criticism. It went beyond Fox in its 
advocacy of political innovation ; it tended towards, 



156 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

if it did not encourage, an approval of Bonaparte's 
career ; and it was unscrupulously malignant towards 
the king and his ministers. For a short time Leigh 
Hunt was a clerk in the war office, at the head 
of which Lord Sidmouth presided : but finding him- 
self placed in the invidious position of attacking the 
party in power, while he was fed by its generosity, 
he resigned his position, and devoted himself exclu- 
sively to literary labor. While editor of " The Ex- 
aminer," he made the acquaintance of many literary 
men, whose names have since become household 
words. At the table of Mr. HUl, proprietor of 
"The Monthly Mirror," he met the generous and 
sensitive author of " The Pleasures of Hope." He 
describes him as a genial companion, overflowing 
with humor, free and cordial, lively and earnest in 
conversation, not without a mixture of sarcasm, and, 
though rarely, of bitterness. His personal appear^ 
ance — which indeed we might guess from his por- 
traits — was classically handsome, and his manners 
elegant and scholastic. " Some gentle Puritan," 
says Hunt, " seemed to have crossed the breed, and 
to have left a stamp upon his face ; " but " he appeared 
not at all grateful for this, and when his critiques and 
his VirgHianism were over, very unlike a Puritan he 
talked ! " Under the same hospitable roof he also 
found Theodore Hook, whose talent for extempore 
verse astonished and amused the company, while his 



LEIGH HUNT. 157 

imitations of eminent characters were the more ludi- 
crous for their lifelikeness. The comedian Matthews 
entertained them with similar exhibitions, remorse- 
lessly bringing forth Garrick, Siddons, and Sir Wal- 
ter, for the edification of his friends. James and 
Horace Smith, the authors of " Rejected Addresses," 
also contributed to the good cheer of the guests. 

" The Examiner," meanwhile, became so bitter in 
its onslaughts upon the government, that two prosecu- 
tions for libel were brought against the proprietors by 
Sir Vicary Gibbs, the attorney general, both of which 
were, however, dropped before they reached the judg- 
ment of the court. One of these libels was an attack 
on the Duke of York, then commanding the army in 
chief, for corruption in the sale of commissions ; the 
other was a contemptuous article on the king. About 
this time (1809) Leigh Hunt married Marianne, 
daughter of Thomas Kent, Esq. In 1810, so suc- 
cessful had " The Examiner " become, on account of 
its popularity among the lower classes, that Mr. John 
Hunt established a quarterly magazine called " The 
Reflector," and the duty of editing it devolved on 
Leigh Hunt. To this periodical several of the most 
prominent writers contributed, among others. Lamb, 
Barnes, Dyer, and Aikin; but, in spite of every 
effort, it failed through want of encouragement. 
The fact was, that the Radicals were not generally 
from the richer classes, and hence* could not support 



158 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

a quarterly. It lived long enough, however, to give 
utterance to much partisan venom ; and in its early 
pages appeared a work by Leigh Hunt, which his 
own subsequent judgment failed to justify, and in 
which many noble writers were attacked, namely, 
" The Feast of the Poets." It presented to the ridi- 
cule of the public the most eminent poets of the age, 
and was particularly severe upon Sir Walter Scott ; 
the principal objection to whom, in the author's mind, 
seems to have been that he was a Tory. The author 
himself acknowledges this production to have been 
" a just ground of offence ; " and certain it is that it 
brought down upon . him nearly every literary celeb- 
rity, and caused an enmity to his paper whicli. well 
nigh destroyed its existence. An excessive act of 
presumption soon after completed the ruin which he 
had barely escaped by the denunciation of critics. 
At an annual dinner of the Irish on St. Patrick's 
day, 1812, the name of the prince regent was re- 
ceived with groans and hisses. After some discussion 
of this indignity by the Whig and Tory organs, "The 
Examiner," ever ready for a verbal affray, took up the 
subject, and came out in the severest denunciation of 
of the heir apparent. Hunt went so far in this arti- 
cle as to call the prince a liar, a libertine head over 
ears in disgrace, a despiser of domestic ties, the com- 
panion of gamblers and demireps, and other epithets 
equally gross. The government was prompt in 



LEIOH HUNT. 159 

bringing the authors of this libel to the judicial 
bar. The result was, that, after a careful trial, 
Leigh Hunt and his brother were sent to prison 
for two years, and fined one thousand pounds. Such 
was the state of our author's health, that confinement 
in the ordinary cells might endanger his life ; he was 
therefore transferred to the prison infirmary. Here 
he found a pleasant room, leading into a small but 
tasteful garden. " I papered the walls with a trellis 
of roses ; I had the ceiling colored with clouds and 
sky ; the barred windows I screened with Venetian 
blinds ; and when my bookcases were set up with 
their busts, and flowers and a piano-forte made theu' 
appearance, perhaps there was not a handsomer room 
that side of the water." Thus with his exquisite taste 
did he contrive to make his new abode inhabitable ; 
he had his family about him ; his books were at his 
elbow ; pen and paper were at hand, ready to fix 
a passing thought ; and — what was no mean con- 
sideration — he had a jailer who was anxious to make 
him comfortable and happy. It was while he was 
imprisoned that he made the acquaintance of some of 
the first men pf the time. Thomas Moore and Lord 
Byron visited him in his seclusion. Hazlitt came to 
cheer and amuse the martyred Radical. The ven- 
erable Bentham, now grown old in the service of 
political science, took pains to make the acquaintance 
of one about whom so much had been said. The 



160 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

Lambs, too, ever ready to extend their sympathy to 
those in distress, were constant in their exertions to 
relieve his discomfort. On the 3d of February, 
1815, Hunt again breathed free air. He took board 
with his family soon after his release on the Edore- 
ware Road, near his brother's house. It was here 
that the acquaintance with Lord Byron ripened into 
friendship. Hunt's recollection of this remarkable 
person was that of a rather corpulent and strikingly 
handsome man, whose countenance wore an expres- 
sion " of spirit and elevation," and who had " a very 
noble look." Byron seems at this time to have taken 
a liking to Hunt's society, and frequently urged him 
to go to the theatre and other amusements with him. 
His calls were very often repeated ; and, as it was 
before the current of public opinion hstd turned 
against him, he was always vivacious and good- 
humored. Another visitor at his house, soon after 
his release from prison, was William Wordsworth. 
Upon Hunt's showing him his own works beside 
those of Milton in the library, the poet felt much 
gratified, and from that moment looked upon the 
author of the flattery with favor. He was a dig- 
nified man, with a rough but pleasant voice, pre- 
maturely gray and bald, with a very grand manner 
of speaking. "I never beheld," says Hunt, "eyes 
that looked so inspired or supernatural." 

In the year 1816 Mr. Hunt went to reside in 



LEIGH HUNT. 161 

Hampstead for his health ; and here he finished his 
" Story of Rimini," which had been commenced 
before his imprisonment. This poem is pronounced 
by the English critics the best that ever issued from 
his pen. It was after the manner of Dryden, and 
some portions of the poem are not unworthy imita- 
tions of him. 

We are now at that period w^hen he formed the 
remarkable friendship with Percy Bysshe Shelley, 
which was to remain tender and uninterrupted during 
the life of the latter. He had seen Shelley early in 
his own career as a journalist, but it was not until 
1816 that they were so thrown together as to become 
intimate ; and meanwhile those domestic calamities 
and discords had occurred which nearly made the 
poet mad. Shelley and Keats met each other for the 
first time in Hunt's house at Hampstead. Our author 
had met the latter when he was at w^ork on '' The Ex- 
aminer," and they had been mutually pleased. The 
young poets, aristocratic and plebeian, became friends, 
although Keats was rather shy at first, distrustful of 
men of gentle birth. In somfe points of character 
they resembled each other closely ; in others they 
were utterly opposite. Both were melancholy, look- 
ing naturally upon the dark side of every question 
and circumstance. Both tended towards atheism, 
and both were radical reformists in morals, society, 
and government. Both rejected the ancient models 



162 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

of poetry. But Keats was sullen, suspicious, and 
cold ; Shelley was cordial, ingenuous, and simple- 
hearted. Keats dreaded, and Shelley longed to love, 
every man. Keats harped upon specific subjects, and 
thought in a limited sphere; Shelley at one time 
gloried in the fields, and flowers, and landscapes ; at 
another, was held in awe by mighty subjects of eternal 
moment. But it melts our dislike of Keats's irritable- 
ness into compassion for his misery, when we think 
of that young life, wasted by malignant disease, dis- 
appointed in every hope by continued neglect or in- 
sult, — when we see him departing from his native 
land, which he was never again to behold, dragging 
his weary body to Italy, and, to the last despairing, 
but gentle, lying down to die among the tombs and 
ruins of the Eternal City. "Keats, when he died," 
says Leigh Hunt, " had just completed his four-and- 
twentieth year. He was under the middle height; 
and his lower limbs were small in comparison with 
the upper, but neat and well turned. His shoulders 
were very broad for his size ; he had a face in which 
energy and sensibiht^ were remarkably mixed up, — 
an eager power, checked and made patient by ill 
health. Every feature was at once strongly cut and 
delicately alive ; the eyes mellow and glowing, large, 
dark, and sensitive. At the recital of a noble action 
or a beautiful thought they would suffuse with tears, 
and his mouth trembled." 



LEIGH HUNT. 163 

Unfortunately for the prosperity of "The Examiner," 
Tory principles guided a large majority of the Eng- 
lish people, as well as of the continental communities ; 
and in the year 1821 it had reached the end of its in- 
fluence. Leigh Hunt, discouraged by the failure of 
his exertions in that direction, now determined to 
accept the invitation of his friend Shelley, who 
pressed him to go to Italy, where the latter was then 
residing. Shelley had conceived the project of estab- 
lishing, conjointly with Byron and Hunt, a periodical 
of liberal bias, to advocate the ideas which were con- 
genial to them all, to edit it in Italy, and to circulate 
it throughout Europe. Hunt embarked with his 
family in a vessel bound for the Mediterranean in 
November, 1821 ; but, being disabled by a storm in 
the Channel, the ship was obliged to put in at Plym- 
outh. There Hunt remained, takinof lod^inos for 
the winter, until May, 1822, when he again sailed, 
and arrived at Genoa in the middle of the foUowino^ 

o 

month. His description of the voyage, his impres- 
sions on seeing for the first time the celebrated spots 
on the route, and his reflections while on shipboard, 
are full of interest. He staid in Genoa but a day or 
two, and set sail on the 28th of June for Leghorn, 
where he was to meet Byron and Shelley. He found 
the noble poet cosily domiciled at a delightful villa 
called Monte Nero, a short drive from the city, — 
the same house, indeed, which Smollett, the novelist, 



164 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

had occupied in his last days. Thence he went, in 
company with Byron, to Leghorn, where they met 
Shelley ; and they all repaired to Pisa, the city resi- 
dence of Byron. Hunt was provided with apart- 
ments in Byron's house. The three enthusiasts, 
wandering about the curious old city, gave themselves 
up to rapturous dreams of future renown, and eagerly 
discussed projects which were to confound their ene- 
mies and astonish their friends. Their delightful 
companionship was, however, doomed to a most 
melancholy end by Shelley's death. 

" Shelley, when he died," writes Hunt, " was in 
his thirtieth year. His figure was tall and slight, 
and his constitution consumptive. Though well 
turned, his shoulders were bent a little, owing to 
premature thought and trouble. The same cause 
had touched his hair with gray. Like the Stagirite's, 
his voice was high and weak. His eyes were large 
and animated, with a dash of wildness in them ; his 
face small, but well shaped, particularly the mouth 
and chin, the turn of which was very sensitive and 
graceful." 

Hunt remained three months at Pisa after his 
friend's decease, and thence went to Genoa with 
Byron. There they set about the work which had 
brought them to Italy, the publication of a periodical 
called " The Liberal." In the first number of this 
work appeared Shelley's last poem, an elegant trans- 



LEIGH HUNT. 165 

lation from Goethe, called " The May-Day Night." 
At Genoa, Leigh Hunt occupied the same house with 
Mrs. Shelley, while Byron took a separate residence, 
the Casa Pallavicini. Here, owing to a broad differ- 
ence of character, and dissimilarity of literary taste, 
the friendship between the editors of " The Liberal " 
began to cool, and in the end turned to absolute 
dislike. Hunt attributes this result to his own un- 
willingness to humor Byron's vanity, and to praise 
his works in terms sufficiently enthusiastic. Byron's 
friends, on the contrary, assert that he had, in the 
first instance, overrated the literary merit of Hunt ; 
that he discovered him to be entirely incompetent to 
cooperate with him in his plans ; that Hunt became 
jealous of the other's superior powers and fame, and 
that it was only at his earnest solicitation that Byron 
first entertained the idea of joint editorship. Hunt's 
description of his intercourse with Byron while in 
Italy is very entertaining. The noble poet, he tells 
us, sat up late at night writing "Don Juan," with a 
bowl of gin and water at his elbow. He did not 
rise till late, and then only to lounge about the gar- 
den, whistling or singing, chewing tobacco to prevent 
corpulency, or indulging in jocular conversation with 
those he happened to meet. He wore a nankeen 
jacket, white vest and trousers, and a small velvet 
cap. Thek difference of opinion did not prevent 
good-humored banterings and discussions ; and they 



166 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

joked each other on the fact that there was only one 
book which both greatly admired, and that was Bos- 
well's Johnson. Byron, in his jocular moods, used, 
for sport, to imitate Johnson in his manner and con- 
versation, as well as other men of note. 

After the vain attempt to make "The Liberal" success- 
ful, it was abandoned. Lord Byron went to Greece ; 
Hunt remained at Genoa. Hunt gives us a vivid 
portrait of that noble city, describing its lovely site, 
the appearance, peculiarities, and manners of its 
people, the mode in which it is built, and the 
splendor of its edifices ; accompanying us through 
the stately cathedrals, the galleries in which hang 
Raphaels and Giulios, the opera-houses, and the pal- 
aces of the illustrious dead. In the summer of 1823 
he removed to Florence, so full of attraction to one 
who cherished historical and aesthetic reminiscences. 
He took a pleasant villa about two miles from the 
city, in a small place called Maiano. Here had 
once lived Boccaccio, who made the vicinity the 
scene of two of his stories in the " Decameron," and 
who revelled in its graceful and varied landscape. 
Near by, too, was the house which was once the 
property of Machiavelli ; and at a short distance 
stood the village of Settignano, where Michael An- 
gelo first learned to animate the marble with his mar- 
vellous creations. A man could not but be happy 
among such memorials. He had, too, English 



LEI as HUNT. 167 

neighbors to sympathize in his tastes, and to talk 
over home news with him ; and in Florence he be- 
came acquainted with Landor, who was already emi- 
nent as a poet of nature, and whose interest in the 
historical attractions of Florence equalled that of 
Hunt himself. Lord Dillon also contributed, by his 
cordial temperament and elegant erudition, to make 
the days pass pleasantly. 

Our author meanwhile labored as much as his 
health would permit, translated Redi's "Bacco in 
Toscana," and wrote various essays which he called 
" The Wishing-Cap," and which were the foundation 
of his larger work, "The Town." He attempted to 
establish a quarterly, which was to contain selections 
from the best English reviews for the entertainment 
of English residents ; but the sensitiveness of the 
Tuscan government as to political articles, and their 
fear lest something revolutionary might creep into the 
new periodical, made the endeavor futile. He wrote 
also parts of another work, which he called " Chris- 
tianism, or Belief and Unbelief Reconciled." It af- 
terwards appeared, revised with additions, under the 
title of "Religion of the Heart." 

After staying about two years among localities 
which enchanted him. Hunt started, in the autumn 
of 1825, on his return journey, going overlantt, 
travelling slowly in carriages. In this way he had 
fine opportunities for observing the varieties in Italian 



168 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

scenery, people, and manners, passing through Bo- 
logna, Modena, Reggio, Parma, Asti, Turin, Susa; 
thence crossing from the Po over the Alps to Savoy, 
Chambery (where he visited Rousseau's house), 
Lyons, and finally to Paris. He remained in the 
French metropolis two days only, in which time he 
hastily visited the places where the main incidents of 
the revolution were enacted, the palaces, and the gal- 
leries, not forgetting to spend a good share of his 
time in searchino; amonsf the book-stalls. On the 
14th of October he reached England, having been 
abroad more than three years. It was, indeed, with 
a feeling of infinite relief that he found himself again 
in his own country. He had recovered tolerably 
good health, had seen the glories of Italy, and had 
become a wiser man by his sojourn abroad ; but 
meanwhile the want of regular employment had told 
upon his means of subsistence, and made him uneasy 
and dissatisfied. To one who had been so long 
among the rich scenery of Tuscany, the healthy 
freshness of Enghsh landscape seemed a relief; for, 
however much he admired the one, his choice was to 
live and die amid home scenes. "The pleasantest 
idea," says he, " which I can conceive of this world, 
as far as one's self and one's enjoyments are con- 
cerned, is to possess some favorite home in one's 
native country, and then travel over all the rest of 
the globe with those whom we love ; always being 



LEian HUNT. 169 

able to return if we please ; and ever meeting with 
new objects as long as we choose to stay away." 

Hunt's intimate connection with what was termed 
the " Cockney school " (to which, by the by, he 
claims that Chaucer, Milton, and Pope belonged), 
placed him at some disadvantage, owing to the un- 
popularity of its leading representatives. The Tories, 
stringently orthodox alike in politics and religion, 
opposed vehemently a class of men who aimed their 
most powerful anathemas against the existing institu- 
tions of both ; and the Tories, backed by the king 
and the influence of Wellington, as well as by Sir 
Walter Scott, Southey, Coleridge, and other equally 
popular literary celebrities, were the controlling party 
in all matters of opinion. Hunt had friends, how- 
ever, who appreciated him, and to the restricted 
measure of their ability encouraged his efforts to 
obtain a livelihood by his pen. AJthough he seems 
to have retained a cheerful disposition, he was ex- 
hausted by repeated and unsuccessful effort, while his 
health again became precarious. He took up his 
residence at Highgate, and there wrote the series of 
essays now known to the world as " The Companion." 
He also wrote, about this time, " Sir Ralph Esher," 
which is a fictitious memoir of a gentleman at the 
court of Charles II. It is a very entertaining little 
book, and presents in a free and unconstrained style 
the manners of those times, and some of the historical 
8 



170 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

characters. The vicinity of London was the only- 
place in which literary labor could be conveniently 
pursued ; and so Hunt removed to Old Brompton, 
and took rooms with Mr. Knight, with whom he 
issued a small daily paper called " The Tatler." 
This periodical was confined to literary and theatrical 
subjects, which contracted its circulation so far, that 
after a doubtful prosperity of three years it ceased. 
In 1833 his poems were collected, and issued by sub- 
scription. The liberal reform of 1832, and the 
l)enignant reign of William the Fourth, had produced a 
marked change in public sentiment : Tory politics and 
Hjgh Church prelates no longer assumed a censorship 
over every emanation from the press ; and conse- 
quently the new volume was far from unpopular, and 
met with unexpected success. Meanwhile, the pre- 
carious state of Hunt's own health, and that of his 
family, induced him to remove to the quiet town of 
Chelsea, where they could enjoy pure air, freedom 
from bustle, and an easy access to the verdure of 
fields and meadows ; while a proximity to the me- 
tropolis afforded every opportunity for comfort and 
convenient labor. Here he continued portions of his 
work, " The Town," contributed frequently to the 
Edinburgh and Westminster, and projected a period- 
ical called ^^ The London Journal ; " besides which he 
wrote a poem entitled " Captain Sword and Captain 
Pen." " The London Journal " continued until 1836, 



LEIGE HUNT. 171 

and was, as we might expect, of an entirely literary 
cbaracter, being made up of essays, criticisms, quota- 
tions, and, rarely, political articles. 

Hunt had always had a taste for the drama, and a 
strong desire to try his hand at dramatic writing ; and 
at different periods of his life he had attempted, 
unsuccessfully, to produce a good play. While at 
Chelsea, he again essayed in this field, and completed 
a piece called " The Legend of Florence." He 
greatly enjoyed this occupation ; and the product of 
his labor, though at first rejected by the managers, 
was finally brought on the boards of Covent Garden 
in 1840. It met with decided success ; the actors 
were delighted with it ; Planch^ and Mrs. Kean, 
according to the author, were affected to tears by it ; 
and, what was its chief victory, the queen herself 
patronized its performance. He also wrote " The 
Secret Marriage," — a piece founded on a tale of 
Navarre, which did not please the managers, but dis- 
plays no small merit, — "Lover's Amazements," 
" The Double," " Look to your Morals," and " The 
Palfrey." It was while residing at Chelsea that he 
formed an acquaintance with one whose later works 
have elevated him to the first rank of philosophical 
essayists, and whose productions had then made his 
name well kno\^Ti as a rising writer. We refer to 
Thomas Carlyle, " whose eyes," says Leigh Hunt, 
" are the finest, in every sense of the word (and I 



172 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

have seen many fine ones) , which I have seen in a 
man's head." Hunt considers him a most eloquent 
man, with a kind and philanthropic heart, and a brain 
on fire at the wrongs and sophistries of mankind. 
His view of Carlyle's manner of attacking worldly 
evils is, that it is more rough and unforgiving than 
the author's nature would lead one to suppose ; and 
he says, " I believe that what Mr. Carlyle loves better 
than his fault-finding, with all its eloquence, is the 
face of any human creature that looks suffering, and 
loving, and sincere." 

An application was made by the friends of Leigh 
Hunt to Viscount Melbourne, the premier, for a pen- 
sion, on the ground that a Liberal ministry could 
afford to assist one who had so long contended in be- 
half of the now dominant doctrines. But, although 
the courtesy of the minister forbade a blunt refusal, 
nothing further was gained from him than a bland 
and indefinite promisci Hunt thinks it was because 
Lord Melbourne considered it unbecoming in a sov- 
ereign, to grant a pension to a person, who had been 
imprisoned by his predecessor, for a libel against the 
crown ; certainly this was a proper ground of refusal. 
His friends, failing in this project, set about another 
method for reUeving his poverty. An amateur the- 
atrical performance was given at Birmingham and 
Liverpool for his benefit; Ben Jonson's play of 
" Every Man in his Humor " was enacted ; Charles 



LEIGH HUNT. 173 

Dickens took the part of " Bobadil," and personated 
it admirably ; Forster and Jerrold helped to fill up 
the role ; Sergeant Talfourd and Sir Edward Bulwer 
composed an appropriate address for the occasion ; 
and the affair terminated with applause to the distin- 
guished actors, and substantial profit to the recipient 
of the testimonial. He removed from Chelsea to 
Kensington, where he wrote " Imagination and 
Fancy," " Stories from Italian Poets," and " The Jar 
of Honey," and completed "The Town." He also 
wrote at this time the main part of the biography 
which is now before us. In 1849 he revived " The 
London Journal " for a while, but it failed from the 
usual cause — want of funds. He was much pleased 
to find that his works had been republished in Amer- 
ica, and enjoyed a good degree of popularity here ; 
and he also had the satisfaction of seeing several of 
his dramas successfully reproduced in the principal 
theatres of the metropolis. 

In the autumn of 1832 he lost a son of great merit, 
who promised to become eminent as a poet, and 
whose last words were, as his father says, " poetry 
itself." " I drink the morning," said he, as he drank 
some water which refreshed him. 

The latest literary labors of Leigh Hunt were 
devoted to the revision and extension of his book 
entitled "Religion of the Heart," in which are set 
forth his theological opinions. It is in a genial, 



174 G,LIMPSES OF BISTORT. 

hopeful strain. It was eminently a work of love, not 
written for gain, but put forth when age had ceased to 
crave lucre, and with the evident intention to do 
good. It was his dying legacy to his children and to 
the world ; and such is the calm and loving tender- 
ness with which he treats every subject that passes 
in review before him, that one must be drawn towards 
him, with all his faults of self-conceit and eccen- 
tricity. His wife died in 1857 ; and in his closing 
pages he pays her a pathetic tribute of affection. He 
describes her as generous, "free from every kind of 
jealousy, superior to illusions from the ordinary 
shows of prosperity." She had through life borne 
with him the vicissitudes of fortune without a mur- 
mur, and even cheerftdly, and, when thoroughly sick 
and exhausted, never uttered a complaint. She was 
quite remarkable for the use of her pencil, received 
compliments from Mr. West for her proficiency in 
that respect, and was especially skilftil in the deline- 
ation of the human profile. 

Our author himself had but just given the final 
touch to his autobiography, when he, too, was sum- 
moned to the other world. He died, at the age of 
seventy-five, on the 28th of August, 1859, two years 
after his wife's departure. " So gentle," says his son, 
" was the final approach, that he scarcely recognized 
it till the very last, and then it came without terrors." 
His health had been failing gradually for some years ; 



LEIQB HUNT, 175 

and so his friends were surprised neither by the ap- 
proach nor by the calmness of his death. He had 
employed his last hours in assisting in the prepara- 
tion of the " Shelley Memorials," * designed to vin- 
dicate and to celebrate the character of his early and 
best beloved friend. His memory, his clear, quick 
mind, his kindly temper, his love of humor, his 
attachment to books, remained to the last day of 
his life. Sickness, vrhich had enfeebled his body, 
had fortunately spared to him the use of those facul- 
ties w^hich to him vrere peculiarly precious. He had 
lived to see the political reform of which he had been 
an earnest advocate gradually on the ascendant ; he 
had survived most of his contemporaries ; he had 
attained a place among the celebrated writers of his 
day. These few words of his son show that to the 
last he retained an interest in the world without, and 
that his affectionate nature was alive almost in death : 
" His failing breath was used to express his sense of 
the inexhaustible kindness he had received from the 
family who had been so uaexpectedly made his 
nurses ; to draw from one of his sons, by minute, 
eager, and searching questions, all that he could learn 
about the latest vicissitudes and growing hopes of 
Italy ; to ask the friends and children around him for 
news of those whom he loved ; and to send love and 
messages to the absent who loved him." 

* Edited by Mrs. Shelley 



176 GLIMPSES OF HISTOBY, • 

In personal appearance, Leigh Hunt was tall and 
straight, while his eyes were black and very brilliant. 
His hair, early in life, was dark, but as he grew 
older, changed to pure white. His complexion was 
dark. His face was intellectual, and withal indicated 
by its genial expression that he had a great heart. 
He had to a large degree that power of attracting the 
affection of others by a winning sympathy and a cor- 
dial manner, which he so enthusiastically attributes 
to his friend Charles Lamb. He was ever thinking, 
talking, and writing of his friends, always anxious to 
please them, and his chief enjoyment seems to have 
been in their companionship. The three salient traits 
that appear in his works and in his record of himself 
are amiableness, self-esteem, and a- sprightly and al- 
most romantic imagination. To the first he owed his 
chief happiness in Hfe ; the second enabled him to keep 
up a stout heart against disappointment ; the third 
gave him the power and the will so to write that he 
has cheered many a weary soul, and filled many a win- 
ter evening with entertainment and instruction. His 
philosophy of life was, to look on the best phase of 
every subject and circumstance, never to despair, to 
meet rebuffs with a cheerful countenance, and to 
endure misfortune with fortitude, hoping for and 
living in a better time to come. In this way he sur- 
vived political persecution and critical denunciation, 
bore sickness with patience, was melancholy without 



LEIOB HUNT. 177 

being misanthropic, was cheerful in the midst of pov- 
erty, made a happy home in a prison, and finally 
died, at a good old age, contented, calm, and looking 
back with complacency on a varied, but on the whole 
successful career. 

8* 



IX. 



ALEXIS DE TOCaUEVILLE. 



« 



ALEXIS DE TOCQUEYILLE was descended 
from a house which traces its origin Back for many- 
centuries . The name of the family was Clerel; but, 
being of gentle blood, they took their present surname 
of Tocqueville, which is derived from the ancient manor 
on which they have dwelt for many generations. Up 
to the middle of the seventeenth century, they Hved 
at Rampan, a smaU village near St. Lo, whence they 
were formerly known as the Clerels de Rampan. 
The ancestry of Alexis, under this name, occupied an 
honorable, and often an eminent, rank among their 
contemporaries. They appear to have been actively 
engaged in political and military events, and to have 
established a family reputation which has been 
worthily sustained to the present day. They were a 
chivalric and spirited race, and were distinguished for 
that lofty sense of honor which especially marked the 
higher orders of French society in former times. 
The courtesy, energy, and independence of the an- 
cient noblesse are easily discernible in the character of 

(178) 



ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE. 179 

the scion of the house of Clerel of whose life we 
write. 

During the seventeenth century, the Clerels re- 
moved to a small settlement on the coast of Norman- 
dy, named Tocqueville, possibly from Toki, an ancient 
chief in those parts. Here the heirs of the family 
have resided down to the present time, spending their 
lives in the dignity and ease of landed gentlemen, 
indulging in rural sports, and assuming honorable 
responsibilities, looked up to with respect by their 
humbler neighbors, and occasionally emerging to take 
a distinguished part in political and militai-y move- 
ments. The father of Alexis was heir of the manor, 
and early came into possession of his patrimony. 
During the brief and delusive lull, which, in 1793, 
intervened between the execution of Louis the Six- 
teenth and the gloomy tyranny of the Jacobins, he 
married Mademoiselle de Rosambo, a granddaughter 
of the celebrated Malesherbes. That heroic old 
loyalist, after defending the king whom he loved, 
before the insurgent Convention, at the peril of his 
life, had retired in despair to mourn the death of his 
sovereign, and to deplore the ruin of his country. It 
was a sad time in which to celebrate a marriage, and 
the festivities were brief and unostentatious. The 
fehcities of the honeymoon were soon dissipated by 
the horrors which attended the nation without a ruler ; 
for within a year after the celebration of the nuptials. 



180 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

the violence of the revolutionists, which everywhere 
sought the destruction of the ancient aristocracy, 
descended upon their family ; and the venerable states- 
man, after witnessing the execution of his daughter, 
granddaughter, and her husband, Chateaubriand, 
himself paid the penalty of his devotion to royalty 
upon the scaffold. Even the youthful count and his 
bride were seized and imprisoned for the pretended 
crimes of her ancestors, and would have shared a like 
fate, had not the fall of Robespierre restored them 
to freedom. They hastened from the Conciergerie to 
Tocqueville, where they found that their villa had 
happily escaped anarchical fury ; and here they resided 
in seclusion for many years. 

Alexis was born at Paris, on the 29th of July, 
1805, and was the third son. Although his father 
was an aristocrat, and in good circumstances, his 
early education does not appear to have been well 
cared for. But a love of books was natural to him; 
and so assiduously did he devote himself to study, 
when his mind was sufficiently ripe to appreciate the 
value of knowledge, that he succeeded in entering the 
college of Metz about 1820; and in 1822 he was 
awarded the first prize in rhetorical composition. All 
his tastes led him to desire active, and at the same 
time intellectual pursuits ; and he chose the law for 
his profession. He was soon appointed juge audi- 
teur of Versailles, where his father was prefect. He 



ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE. 181 

had, in the year before his appointment, made a tour 
of Italy and Sicily in company with his brother Ed- 
ward. The great subjects which subsequently en- 
grossed his thoughts appear to have agitated him thus 
early in his career. Instead of dwelling upon the 
stately palaces and the renowned temples, the relics 
of ancient art and the marvels of modern skill, he in- 
vestigated the manners of the people, their political, 
moral, and religious tendencies, their estimation of 
and capacity for government, and the comparative 
intelligence and virtue of ancient and modern Italy. 
He was already gathering that rich fund of experience, 
and attaining that high capacity for observation, 
which years afterwards enabled him to step, with one 
effort, into the first rank of political philosophers. 
His early impressions, derived from a mother who 
had witnessed the tragical desolation of her family, 
and who was in the midst of the terrible scenes 
enacted by the revolutionists, had made him an 
earnest and thoughtful student of the causes and in- 
fluence of those stirring events. He was fired with 
the contemplation of the wrongs suffered by his kin- 
dred and his countrymen, which stimulated him to 
attempt the interpretation of the great enigma of the 
eighteenth century. He had learned from the lips of 
surviving witnesses the contempt of order, the dese- 
cration of religion, the fierce Vandalism, and the 
prostitution of the name of liberty, which composed 



182 GLIMPSES OF BISTORT. 

the salient features of Jacobin ascendency. He had 
himself experienced the degradation, of the higher 
orders, and the subversion of the established status of 
society ; he saw that the dangers of pure democracy 
counterbalanced, among a mercurial and restless race 
like the French, the evils of monarchy ; and yet he 
vras forced to admit that liberty and progress were 
incompatible with the bigoted government of 
Charles the Tenth. Hence we find him, at the early 
age of nineteen, considering the political condition of 
the countries through which he travelled, and dedu- 
cing inferences applicable to France. Having entered 
upon his magisterial duties in 1827, he brought to 
their discharge vigilance and acuteness, and soon 
achieved eminence in his department. But the 
drudgery of the bench failed to satisfy the craving of 
his restless mind. As a relief to the tedious routine 
of his office, he turned aside with De Beaumont, his 
colleague and friend, to the congenial study of history. 
The enthusiasm with which he pursued his favorite 
researches, the sagacity with which he unravelled 
causes and effects from the dry materials of facts and 
dates, and the discernment with which he deduced 
general principles from the habits and opinions of 
different ages, and by comparing different nations, 
predicted, when he had scarcely attained his majority, 
the certainty of future triumphs. 

Meanwhile, the political events of 1827-8 por- 



ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE. 183 

tended unusual convulsions. The popular party be- 
gan to manifest symptoms of resistance to the estab- 
lished order. The Legitimists, encouraged by a 
monarch who, to a weak and capricious intellect, 
added a stubborn indifference to the welfare of his 
people, and who did not hesitate to assert his be- 
lief in the divine right of the crown, resisted with 
firmness the appeals for reform which came up to 
Paris from every part of the nation. Literary con- 
troversy and theoretical speculation were fomenting 
discontent throughout the land. Charles, remember- 
ing that his prototype and namesake of England had 
fallen by yielding, vainly imagined that he could 
sustain himself by resisting. De Tocqueville, who 
had studied history differently, and, as subsequent 
events proved, far more sagaciously, looked upon 
the course of the king with misgiving, and predicted 
his inevitable downfall when Polignac became first 
minister. • 

The young philosopher, nevertheless, viewed with 
dread the approach of another revolution. He saw, 
on one side, the intelligence, the religion, the moral 
and intellectual element of France ; on the other, an 
irresponsible and anarchical power, composed of an 
ignorant and unreasoning mass. While the mon- 
archy was sustained by the virtue, the revolution was 
sustained by the iniquity and vice, of the nation. If 
the monarchy successfully resisted its antagonists, and 



184 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

built its permanence on tlie oppression of the people, 
he could see no hope of preserving the cause of con- 
stitutional liberty. If another revolution should pre- 
vail over the established order, demolishing with a 
sudden stroke the status which had scarcely recov- 
ered from the shock of 1789, foUovred by a usurpa- 
tion of fanatics and atheists, vrith all the disastrous 
results of anarchy, there seemed but little better 
prospect of the restoration of tranquillity. If he had 
been a selfish man, his interest would have led him to 
support the crown. His father had been created a peer 
of France by Louis the Eighteenth. He belonged to 
the old noblesse, wliich, after the vicissitudes of 1789 
and the empire, had been restored with the Bourbon 
dynasty. Most of the influence he then possessed 
was owing: to his hioh birth and connections. His 
family had been prominent among the victims of 
Robespierre. He was just now entering a career 
which promised the richest rewards of genius. But 
with all these influences, he could not support a dy- 
nasty which prided itself on its opposition to the pop- 
ular demand, which was gradually undermining the 
remnants of liberty bequeathed by the first revolu- 
tion, and which feared innovation as the instrument 
of its destruction. 

The revolution came : it was accomplished without 
blood ; the king was driven from the capital, and the 
Due d'Orleans, his cousin, was raised to the throne. 



ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE. 185 

De Tocqiieville was neutral in the contest. He now, 
with great reluctance, took the oath prescribed by the 
new government, in the faint hope that a change for 
the better had been made, and that the new king 
would be forced to govern constitutionally, as a 
means of safety. He taught himself to bear what 
could not be remedied, yet did not approve what 
his conscience condemned. He rather acquiesced in 
than supported the revolution of 1830 ; and he did 
so with a hesitation which indicated that, while prin- 
ciple remained unshaken, necessity compelled a course 
which his convictions reprobated. 

In 1831, M. de Beaumont, his colleague in the 
magistracy, was removed from that position by the 
government ; and De Tocqueville, deprived of his 
presence and counsel, immediately resigned his own 
office, and willingly retired from the annoyances of 
the bench. He was gratified to obtain a commission 
from the interior department, jointly with De Beau- 
mont, to proceed to the United States for the purpose 
of viewing the penitentiary system. This was only the 
means, however, to a noble end which he had- pro- 
posed to himself. He wished to see the only country 
in the world in which democracy had become recon- 
ciled to order and stability ; in which popular educa- 
tion was the regulator of the political system ; in 
which the highest degree of freedom had been made 
compatible with an effective police, a prompt admin- 



186 GLIMPSES OF ETSTOBY, 

istration of justice, and a competent form of govern- 
ment. It was his ambition to view our institutions 
as a Frenchman, yearning to find the great remedy 
which should cure what was beoinnino^ to be the 
chronic distemper of his country. It was necessary, 
in order to comprehend our national fabric, to come 
among us, to trace back every effect to its cause, to 
view, if possible, the operation of the system with 
American prejudices, and to consider with a philo- 
sophic eye " the march of ideas and feelings." 
While he devoted much labor to the official enter- 
prise which he had undertaken, his main work was 
the study of American liberty ; and he studied it not 
more as a philosopher, or as a theorist, than as a 
patriot. " America," he says, " was only the frame ; 
my picture was Democracy." 

He devoted two years, on his return, to the com- 
position of the work which brought him, by a mar- 
vellous transition, from obscurity- to renown. He 
had not reached his thirtieth year when " Democracy 
in America " appeared. It was at once hailed as the 
result of a great mind. No European had before 
comprehended American liberty. No philosopher 
had before penetrated so far into the problem of 
democracy. In that work were exhibited, with a 
strength worthy of Johnson, and an accuracy which 
Parr might have envied, the virtues and the deficien- 
cies of popular power. The picture was not more 



ALEXIS BE TOCQUEVILLE, 187 

excellent for the brilliancy of its coloring and the 
beauty of its arrangement, than for the symmetry of 
its whole, and the vividness of every part. So pro- 
found, and yet so graceful, a treatise on government 
has not been produced in the present century, or per- 
haps in any century. Frenchmen v^ere proud that 
their young countryman should distance, in one of 
the most difficult of sciences, the ancient authorities 
of other nations. Englishmen were glad to see a 
work appear which tended to confirm a constitution 
sustained by an equipoise between crown and people. 
Americans venerated the man who, alone of all for- 
eigners that had crossed the Atlantic, fully under- 
stood a system so much reviled in the old world, and 
who had accm^ately discerned the merits and faults 
of a republican government. The book was sold 
with wonderful rapidity, and was translated into 
many languages. No library was considered as 
complete without it. Conservatives found in its 
pages arguments enforcing the danger of mob gov- 
ernments. Reformers quoted it in derogation of 
regal authority, and in favor of extending popular 
suffrage. His aim was, however, to represent to the 
advocates of ideal democracy, and the advocates of 
established precedent, the errors in both views ; to 
show that democracy without intelligence, morality, 
and religion, is despotism ; that democracy reconciled 
to " respect for property, deference for rights, safety 



188 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

to freedom, and reverence to religion," is composed 
of noble elements ; and that the choice is inevitable 
between anarchical democracy and intelligent de- 
mocracy. " Many people," he says to StofFels, "of 
opposite opinions, are pleased with it, not because 
they understand it, but because they find in my 
book, considered on one side only, certain arguments 
favorable to their own passion of the moment." Tri- 
umphant as was the early success of " Democracy in 
America," as years of experience and public disor- 
der have passed?, it has become more and more au- 
thoritative ; and the prophetic wisdom, the profound 
logic, and the strict accuracy which dignify every 
page, have been tested and confirmed by subsequent 
events. Similar subjects have been discussed by 
men of genius on both sides of the Atlantic ; but the 
greater part are speculatists, deriving their mate- 
rials from the study of other works and the observa- 
tions of other persons. They have erected formidable 
theories, abounding indeed in erudition and acute- 
ness, yet lacking the test of actual experience. M. 
de Tocqueville lived in the events, and observed in 
person the facts, from w^hich he produced the ele- 
ments of his philosophy. Superadded to an extraor- 
dinary capacity for speculation, he possessed a prolific 
experience, with which to exemplify and enforce his 
doctrines. 

After enjoying a triumph in his own country, which 



ALEXIS 1)E TOCQUEVILLE. 189 

must not only have gratified his pride, but also stim- 
ulated his hopes of reform, he visited England in 
1835. There he met with a reception, from the 
first noblemen and writers of the age, of which he 
was justly proud. The elegant and courteous Lans- 
downe, the polished Holland, the vivacious Macau- 
lay, and the learned Grote, welcomed to their country 
one who combined grace and dignity of manner, no- 
bility of birth, and brilliant colloquial power with a 
strength of intellect such as few Frenchmen have ex- 
hibited in any age. 

In the same year he married an English lady, 
Miss Mary Mottley, to whom he had been several 
years attached, and who, though she brought him no 
fortune, seems to have appreciated his temperament 
and sympathized with his tastes. He constantly 
spoke of her with affection, and never took a step 
without resorting to her for advice. In 183G the 
Academy of France, proud to acknowledge the just- 
ness of his eminence, awarded a prize of eight thou- 
sand francs to his work on America. The following 
year found him the possessor, by a family agreement, 
of the ancient manor of Tocqueville. The revolu- 
tion of 1830 had substituted a representative govern- 
ment for a rigid monarchy. This change brought 
with it a corresponding change in the position of 
literary men. Little pains had been taken by the 
Bourbons to encourage this class ; much less were 



190 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

they resorted to as counsellors of the crown. The 
sagacious Louis Philippe saw the importance with 
which they were regarded by intelligent men ; and 
the result was, that poets and historians, editors and 
astronomers, became ministers of police and minis- 
ters of foreign affairs. De Tocqueville, who had 
hitherto been known as a speculative politician, now 
aspired to be a practical politician. He saw the class 
in which he had ranked himself accepting seals of 
office, offering themselves for the Chamber, and rep- 
resenting France at foreign courts. He was now a 
feudal proprietor ; and this advantage, combined with 
his literary eminence, encouraged him to enter the 
troubled arena. At the election of 1 8 3 7 , therefore , he 
presented himself to the arrondissement of Yaloques 
as a candidate for the Chamber. His kinsman, 
Count Mol^, then at the head of the government, 
offered to support him with all the influence of the 
ministry, and without his knowledge took measures 
to carry the election in his favor. But De Tocque- 
ville, with a lofty spirit seldom seen in candidates for 
office, manfully rejected the aid thus offered ; and, the 
cry of "No nobles ! " having been raised against him, 
he was defeated. Liberal as were his ideas on gov- 
ernment, he could not induce the bigoted Norman 
peasantry to look beyond his birth, to his character 
and merit. 

He now devoted himself to cultivating the esteem 



ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE. 191 

of his neighbors, to improving the surroundings of his 
villa, to the pleasing duties of hospitality, and to the 
continuation of the great work, the published portions 
of which had so abundantly rewarded him. In 1838 
the Academy of Moral and Political Science did itself 
honor, and him justice, by enrolling his name as one 
of its members. The biennial election again ap- 
proached in 1839, when, so successful had he been 
in disabusing the district of prejudices against him, 
and in endearing himself to its people by the simple 
courtesy of his manners, he was elected by a large 
majority to the highest legislative position in France. 
He continued to represent Valoques in the Chamber 
of Deputies from 1839 to the breaking up of thi'ones 
and legislatures in 1848. 

He found, upon taking his seat, that the Chamber 
was divided into three distinct parties — the minis- 
terial party, the dynastic opposition, and the repub- 
lican opposition. At the head of the former were M. 
Guizot and M. Mole, and they supported the royal 
family then in power. The dynastic opposition were 
under the lead of Thiers and Odillon Barrot. They 
were acquiescent in the present establishment, but 
opposed to the particular measures of the ministry 
then in place. The republicans were not only op- 
posed to the present dynasty, but to all dynasties, 
and were zealous disciples of the old revolutionists. 
^The fieedom of the press had never been greater 



192 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

than it was at this time ; consequently parties of all 
shades waged incessant warfare, and the fiercest fa- 
natics did not hesitate to avow their extreme doc- 
trines in the forum and through the press. De 
Tocqueville, having before his eyes the example of 
England, — that example to which he ever tried to 
induce France to approximate, — and from a fear that 
either the crown or the republicans might acquire too 
much power, determined to throw his influence into 
the balancing party, and enrolled himself under the 
leadership of Tliiers and Barrot. While, on the 
whole, he considered it essential to the liberties of 
France to support the Orleanists at the Tuileries, he 
thought that a dynastic opposition would operate to 
restrain while it sustained, and, keeping the repub- 
licans in a hopeless minority, to force the king to a 
constitutional reign. While he continued deputy, 
he was intrusted with various responsible duties, 
among others with that of reporting, in 1839, on 
the abolition of colonial slavery ; in 1840, on prison 
reform; and in 1846, on African colonization. In 
1840 he issued the last two volumes of "Democracy 
in America," which were received with as great appro- 
bation as had greeted the former issue; and in the 
following year he had the gratification of being elected 
a member of the Academy of France. As a relax- 
ation from the severe duties of the Chamber, he 
travelled, in 1841, and again in 1845, through 
Algeria, 



ALEXIS BE TOCQUEVILLE. 193 

His friends had expected, when he was returned to 
the legislature, that he would rise at once to the front 
ranks of his party. But those expectations were, in a 
measure, disappointed. He not only did not become 
a leader, he did not become even prominent in the 
debates of the Chamber. The eloquence which had 
flowed so easily from his pen now failed him, as he 
stood upon his feet and attempted to harangue the 
dignified deputies of France. It was not surprising, 
however, that one who had been a great writer did 
not succeed as a speaker. He had memorable pre- 
cedents, to which he might point, to excuse his fail- 
ure. Such men as Addison, Johnson, Jefferson,, 
and Scott, all political writers of the first ability, had 
entirely failed when called upon to speak in public. 
His temper, which was impetuous to a fault, his care 
to avoid commonplaces, his deep thought, the deli- 
cacy of his frame, and the entirely novel position in 
wliich he found himself, added to a weak voice, were 
adequate reasons for his deficiency as an orator. 
Notwithstanding, however, that his labors could not 
be of service to his cause in forensic discussion, the 
deliberate cast of his mind produced an influence on 
his colleagues far from contemptible. In private dis- 
cussions with his political friends, he pointed out to 
them, with rare acuteness, the dangers which beset 
the monarchy and liberty. To him they resorted 
when an important vote was to be decided, or an 
9 



194 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

important measure introduced; and although, un- 
happily for them and for France, they did not always 
follow his counsel, they listened to it with attention 
and respect. 

The breach between the king's friends, headed by 
Guizot on the one side, and the dynastic and the rev- 
olutionary opposition, now apparently united, on the 
other, was continually widening from 1840 to the 
time of the king's downfall. Odillon Barrot hoped 
that, by uniting with the radicals, and thereby out- 
voting the ministry, he might be able to limit, with- 
out destroying, the royal prerogative. He vainly 
thought that, after concessions had been forced by 
the aid of his allies, he might easily abandon them, 
and, supported by the nation, accede to power with- 
out detriment to the monarchy. The issue which he 
made with the ministry was reform in the court and 
in elections. The revolutionists, led by Ledru-Rol- 
lin, Marrast, Arago, and Louis Blanc, now entered 
upon the rapid execution of the projects which had 
long busied their fevered brains, and caught at the 
first opportunity of their fulfilment. Carrying along 
with them their unwilling allies, they began to incite 
the nation to a desperate resistance, and to preach the 
old doctrines of equality and liberty to the ignorant 
and disaiiected. - The government, looking with nat- 
ural dread upon the disturbances thus created, forbade 
the holding of public meetings. Fertile in expedient 



ALEXIS DE TOGQUEVILLE. 195 

and fearless in action, the agitators contrived that 
banquets should be held throughout France ; and at 
these assemblages they harangued with redoubled 
violence and fury. Barrot and Thiers began to 
tremble at the excesses which their rashness had 
brought into existence. But it was too late. They 
could break down the barrier, but they could not 
again rear it to oppose the impetuous flood. The 
time had come when the weaker element of conser^ 
vatism in the coalition was stifled in the desperate 
measures of the levellers. 

De Tocqueville saw the approach of the tempest 
months before it burst upon the country. In January 
he addressed the Chamber in a prophetic warning, 
which amazed the deputies. After pointing to the 
disturbances which agitated the nation, and the causes 
of those disturbances, he said, " We are slumbering 
on a volcano : I am certain of it." Events soon 
occurred which stamped him as a true prophet. A 
grand national banquet was announced to take place 
in Paris. The insurrectionists were to erect their 
standards of rebellion under the very shadow of the 
Tuileries. Barrot attempted to compromise ; Kollin 
and Blanc were inexorable. Guizot offered to resign, 
and Barrot was intrusted with a brief interval of 
power. But the outbreak was ripe, and revolution 
again triumphed over monarch, ministers, and legisla- 
tors. The king, with the royal family, fled through 



196 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

his garden, as the mob were thundering at the portals 
of the palace. France was once more without a ruler. 
And now came in all that race of hypocrites who 
exercised power under the visor of liberty, — exalting 
the populace of Paris over the citizens of France, — 
bent on abolishing royalty, debasing the nobility, 
equalizing all ranks, and levelling property and power 
to a common grade. Ledru-KoUin, at the head of a 
band of rioters, overawed and expelled the depu- 
ties, and read a list of the provisional government, in- 
cluding with himself the wildest zealots of his fac- 
tion, from Lamartine to Albert the laborer. This ad- 
ministration, self-created, and sustained only by the 
dregs of Paris, repaired to the headquarters of the 
government, and began to shape their policy by the 
promulgation of the Utopian systems, the advocacy 
of which had attached to them the ignorant and 
deluded laboring classes of the capital. 

De Tocqueville clearly discerned the dangers of 
the nation, and instantly declared that its only safety 
was in the prompt erection of a constitutional repub- 
lic. He considered the evils of political frenzy less 
dangerous than the ignorance of the people " as to the 
real conditions of production and social prosperity." 
A continuation of the social despotism which now 
held possession of the sinews of government must, he 
saw, eventually lead the nation again to imperial 
rule, as it had done before in 1789. An election for 



ALEXIS DE TOCQVEVILLE. 197 

a constituent Assembly was ordered ; and on tlie 4th 
of May, De Tocqueville was returned to it by his 
neighborhood of La Manche. To the surprise and 
chagrin of the provisional government, this body 
contained a large majority of conservative and mod- 
erate men. The revolutionists found themselves in 
a hopeless minority. De Tocqueville, with other 
leaders of the advocates of order and system, now 
earnestly strove to establish a republic. The con- 
stituent Assembly, completely united, and determined 
to resist Parisian tyranny, promptly appointed a 
committee to frame a constitution with a republican 
form. Upon this committee De Tocqueville was 
placed, and became a leading member. But the 
chaotic elements into which society had been broken 
were not yet reduced to harmony ; and the repubh'C, 
unsupported by the approval of the nation, only pre- 
pared the way for a catastrophe which De Tocque- 
ville had been anxious to avert by its means. The 
election of president resulted in the choice of Louis 
Napoleon Bonaparte, a man who, as De Tocqueville 
himself said, " believes in his own hereditary right in 
the crown as firmly as Charles the Tenth himself." 
De TocqueviUe had voted for General Cavaignac, the 
opposing candidate, because he dreaded the accession 
of a Bonaparte, and looked with especial distrust 
upon the character of the prince who now solicited 
popular support. 



198 0LIMPSE8 OF EISTOBY, 

Soon after his instalment into office, Napoleon 
requested an interview with De Tocqueville, and 
endeavored, bj treating him with marked civility, to 
persuade him into the adoption of his own views. 
But the shrewd statesman penetrated the design of 
the president, and refused to become a passive tool 
for the erection of despotism over the heads of the 
people. The conservatives, although disheartened at 
the evident tendencies of the new powers, resolved to 
make one more effort for a constitutional system. 
They hoped that, by persuading the president to 
adopt the principle of free parhaments and responsible 
ministries, he might be induced to forego the effort 
to obtain absolute power. With this laudable view, 
Odillon Barrot, in June, 1849, undertook the func- 
tioiis of prime minister. Eminent conservatives were 
intrusted with the ministerial seals. De Tocqueville, 
much to Barrot's honor, received and accepted the 
portfolio of the foreign oflSce. The people began to 
see the return of peace and order. 

The foreign secretary found that he had assumed, 
with his new office, duties of unusual magnitude. 
Besides the deliberations which devolved upon him as 
a member of the cabinet council, which, at this early 
stage of affairs, were of the utmost importance, he 
was obliged to turn his attention to the settlement of 
the Roman question, and also of the controversy 
reo-ardins: the Huno^arian refugees who were claimed 



ALEXIS BE TOCQUEVILLE. 199 

from Turkey by Russia and Austria. To reconcile 
other nations to the occupation of the Eternal City by 
French troops, to disabuse foreign courts of the idea 
that this occupation was for conquest, and not for pro- 
tection, and to interfere between three powerful courts 
in a question of the greatest delicacy and difficulty, 
required an active mind and a determined purpose. 
Of these tasks he acquitted himself with high credit. 
His despatches are perspicuous, energetic, and saga- 
cious. In the retirement of his study he could easily 
wield a power which had been denied him in the 
Chamber. His knowledge of passing events, and the 
attention with which he had contemplated the history 
of nations, made him the master of his subject. The 
candor with which he negotiated with foreign powers 
commanded their respect and elicited their confidence. 
The moderation of his views, and the foresight which 
had marked his career, called forth a reliance on his 
efficiency in the execution of his trust, both from his 
colleagues and from the people, ffis experience in 
office, however, was brief; for it soon became appar- 
ent that Napoleon was determined to govern without 
the restraint of a responsible ministry. Finding that 
every attempt to legitimize his projected measures 
was vain, the Barrot ministry retired from power in 
October, 1849 — the technical issue being in regard 
to the Roman expedition. By their downfall the 
last hopes of preserving constitutional stability were 
crushed. 



200 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

De Toequeville, desponding, and shattered in 
health, now left France for Italy, and spent the 
winter at Sorrento, where he employed himself in 
recovering physical' strength, observing from a dis- 
tance the course of events, and writing the early por- 
tions of a work which he had long contemplated, on 
the causes of the first revolution. On his return to 
France, he found the Assembly and the press agitated 
by discussions relative to a revision of the constitu- 
tion of 1848. The period designated for the election 
of president approached. The incumbent was bent 
on retaining his power ; and whether it should be 
retained by a coup-d^etat, or by abolishing the re- 
striction in the constitution which prohibited his re- 
election, it was for the Assembly to determine. Re- 
sistance by that body to the proposed revision would 
precipitate the nation into certain despotism. Com- 
pliance made such a result a question of time. De 
Toequeville saw that the choice was between faint 
hope and no hope. Without hesitation he, advocated 
a revision, and he was himself intrusted in committee 
with framing a report favorable to that measure. 
Feeble as the chance was of preserving the repubhc, 
he saw that to make the acts of the president consti- 
tutional was the only chance. His description of the 
constitution of 1848, in his report, is drawn with so 
skilful a hand, that we cannot refrain from presenting 
it to our readers : — 



ALEXIS BE TOCQUEVILLE. 201 

" A single Chamber exclusively entitled to make 
laws, a single man exclusively entitled to preside over 
the application of all laws, and the direction of ail 
public affairs, each of them elected directly by univer- 
sal suffrage ; the Assembly omnipotent within the 
limits of the constitution; the president required, 
within those limits, to obey the Assembly, but wield- 
ing, from the nature of his election, a moral force 
which makes his submission uneasy, and must suggest 
to him resistance, and possessed of all the prerogatives 
which belong to an executive in a country in which 
the central administration, everywhere active and 
everywhere powerful, has been created by monarchs 
and for the purposes of monarchy, — these two great 
powers, equal as to their origin, unequal as to their 
rights, condemned by law to coerce one another, invit- 
ed by law to mutual suspicion, mutual jealousy, and 
mutual contest, yet forced to live in close embrace, in 
an eternal tete-a-tete, without a third power, or even 
an umpire to mediate and restrain them, — these are 
not conditions under which a government can be 
re ovular or strono^." 

The efforts of the constitutionalists proved of no 
avail. The inordinate ambition of Napoleon now 
only awaited an opportimity to seize the absolute 
control over the nation. De Tocqueville, who had 
before predicted both of the revolutions, foresaw the 
impending blow to the Assembly. He was seated 
9* 



202 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

among his colleagues when the coup c^'e^a^ took place. 
On the morning of the 2d of December, the president 
took possession, by military force, of all the govern- 
ment ofGces. An armed troop of soldiery came to 
the Assembly, and De Tocqueville, in company with 
two hundred of the elite of France, was marched to 
the Quai d'Orsay, and thence conveyed to Vincennes. 
Napoleon now rapidly consolidated the empjre. A 
constrained ballot afforded a pretence for his meas- 
ures. The Assembly was abolished, the press fet- 
tered, Lamartine and Hugo exiled, a standing army 
established, and every precaution taken to secure a 
permanent despotism. When the plans of the em- 
peror had been reduced to system, the imprisoned 
legislators were released. 

This tyrannical seizure and confinement was the 
last scene in the political life of M. de Tocqueville. 
The result to which he had looked forward with 
dismay had now followed from the revolution of 
1848. The people of France, wearied with the 
continual turmoil of anarchy, and grown apathetic 
in the license which had long prevailed, had at 
last quietly and slavishly submitted their necks to 
the yoke of the oppressor. The day in which patri- 
ots could exert themselves was passed. All that 
remained for him now was to retire to his country- 
seat, to banish poKtics from his thoughts, to devote 
his time to the quiet walks of literature and agricul- 



ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE. 203 

ture, and to alleviate the condition and augment the 
happiness of those humble neighbors who had been so 
lonGf faithful to him. He continued the execution of 
his work on the revolution of 1789 as rapidly as his 
frail health would permit, and published the first part 
of it in 1856. The rest was never finished. For 
purposes of study he visited St. Cyr in 1854, and 
Germany in 1855. He also in 1857 visited England 
for the last time, where he was received with distin- 
guished consideration, and whence a government 
vessel was specially commissioned to reconvey him to 
Normandy. He devoted himself with zest to agri- 
culture, for which, in the restlessness of his early 
days, he had had a dislike. Novv^, after an active 
and stormy life, his mind had become cahn, and his 
love of nature contributed to give a relish to rural 
occupations. Although he had retired from public 
service, he never ceased to practise the maxim which 
we find in his letters — " There is only one great 
object in this world which deserves our efix)rts, and 
that is the good of mankind." He considered life as 
of but httle worth, except as it is made valuable by 
being employed in doing one's duty, and serving men, 
and in "taking one's fit place among them." His 
charity was free and liberal, his advice never refused, 
when solicited ; his kindness and affability were con- 
stant, his interest in the prosperity of others enthu- 
siastic. Thus usefully and happily were his last years 



204 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBT. 

passed ; and as he had spent a laborious life in im- 
proving public sentiment, exalting religious and edu- 
cational influences, and striving to secure to his coun- 
trymen an equipoise of liberty and stability, the 
evening of his sojourn upon earth was devoted to the 
alleviation of individual distress, and the exercise of 
an active benevolence. 

The delicate body, which had sustained so many 
inroads upon its strength, now began to yield to dis- 
ease. In June, 1858, he broke a blood-vessel — an 
event which, although at the time it was not re- 
garded as fatal, accelerated the final catastrophe. 
The bleak shores of Normandy were ill suited to an 
invahd afflicted with pulmonary weakness, and he 
repaired to Cannes, in the south of France, buoyed 
up with the hope that the softer air and more equa- 
ble climate of that region might restore him to 
vigor. There, although confined most of the time to 
his villa, he continued those studies which had mainly 
contributed to his happiness through life, and had 
delightful communion with the eminent persons who 
resided near him. Lord Brougham and Chevalier 
Bunsen contributed to while away many weary hours 
by their considerate attentions to the dying statesman. 
After weeks of protracted suffering, aggravated by 
the illness of his wife, but sustained with patience by 
a meek and cheerful spirit, he passed away, with 
tranquillity and in the complete exercise of liis facul- 



ALEXIS BE TOGQUEVILLE. 205 

ties, surrounded by his best beloved friends, on the 
16th of April, 1859. Although till within a few- 
days of his departure he had never ceased to look 
forward to a resumption of his labors, the humility 
with which he acquiesced in the solemn disappoint- 
ment, and the fervent piety with which he confided 
in his Saviour, made a lasting impression upon those 
who witnessed that peaceful death scene. At his 
own request, his mortal remains were laid in the 
rural churchyard, near the ancient manor on which 
he had dwelt so long, and among the people he loved 
so well. The burial service was performed in the 
humble parish church, and the mourning peasantry 
attended with one accord the last sad tribute to their 
illustrious friend. A plain wooden cross marks the 
place of his interment. He died childless. 

We have reviewed the life of one whose name, 
known wherever civilization has given a zest to polit- 
ical philosophy, is held in peculiar respect on this 
side of the Atlantic. Before his day, little was 
known on the continent of the structure of our gov- 
ernment, and its application of republican principles. 
To him we owe lasting gratitude for having led his 
age to an intelligent contemplation of our system, 
and for setting in a just light before the world the 
benefits and evils of democratic policy. It is not, 
however, to be inferred, because he devoted so much 
time and labor to the study of the principles of democ- 



206 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

racy, that he was an advocate of that form of gov- 
ernment. He always regarded the constitutional 
monarchy of England as the polity which combined 
in the greatest perfection a just freedom for the sub- 
ject with due power in the executive. He believed 
the tendencies of the age in which he lived to be 
toward the unlimited supremacy of the popular ele- 
ment ; but he was persuaded of what events repeat- 
edly verified, that the character of the French was 
not harmonious with the idea of unrestrained popular 
power. He aptly perceived that the causes which 
tended to strengthen republicanism in America could 
never so operate in his own country. For that rea- 
son he concluded that, while democracy in America 
was freedom, democracy in France was despotism. 
He wished to see in France a strong central govern- 
ment, not distracted by a landed aristocracy, and not 
interfering beyond its proper sphere ; control over mu- 
nicipal matters given to municipal authorities ; gen- 
erous extension of political rights ; broad tolerance 
of individual action. But such an establishment, he 
readily perceived, must be the work of time ; revolu- 
tion could not effect it ; a sudden change of adminis- 
tration or policy could not produce it ; it must be 
ingrafted by gradual and cautious innovations, the 
more potent because the less perceptible. In the 
revolutions of which he had been a witness, he saw 
that all the elements of intelligence, morality, re- 



ALEXIS DE TOGQUEVILLE. 207 

ligion, and learning had been conservative ; vrhile the 
depravity of the nation, the wild, atheistic, visionary 
fanatics, composed the elements of v^hich the reform- 
ing spirit v^as made up. He knew that the former 
class of men were indispensable auxiliaries to the 
gradual change he was desirous of producing, and 
hence looked with great sorrow upon the convulsions 
which shook France from time to time. From these 
opinions we are enabled to see why he was never a 
strong party man. Looking beyond the ephemeral 
principles which controlled the policy of factions, he 
could not bring himself to sympathize heartily with 
either extreme. Perceiving the salutary influence of 
a systematic opposition in England, he ranged him- 
self with Barrot and Thiers, rather to maintain an 
equipoise than because his opinions sympathized 
with those of the statesmen with whom he acted. 

If we consider his social character, we find that the 
gravity of the philosopher did not intrude upon his 
pri\%te relations ; for in the companionship of those 
he loved, he both conversed freely and listened with 
respectful attention to others. He was cheerful and 
unassuming, readily pleased, and always anxious to 
please. The dignity of his vocations did not pre- 
clude him from the good will of the humble. His 
candor rather elicited esteem than provoked irritation, 
and his piety, always constant and sometimes glowing, 
was yet not austere, but was indul^nt of those pleas-. 



208 GLIMPSES OF HIS TOBY, 

ures which morality permits. The same vigor and 
brilliancy which mark his writings shone forth in his 
conversation, which instructed while it entertained, 
and engaged both mind and heart by its lofty and 
yet sympathetic tone. Few men have been so re- 
markable as he for colloquial power ; and, although 
he did not exhibit the rich fund of thought and fancy 
in which his mind abounded except to his friends, the 
renown of his conversational gifts almost equals that 
of his published works. His complaisance disarmed 
the surliest rival, yet his pride scorned a slavish sub- 
mission to any. Possessing faculties of understand- 
ing naturally quick, he made them preeminent by 
study, and still more by observation and reflection. 
So vigorous was his spirit, that it rose in rebellion 
against the sedentary labors of his younger days. 
He continually longed for bodily or mental excite- 
ment, and on one occasion he wrote to a near friend, 
" The desire for strong emotions becomes irresistible, 
and my mind preys upon itself if it is not satisfi'ed." 
Throughout his early correspondence the same restless 
disposition is discernible. He was continually com- 
plaining of want of excitement, and yearning for a 
life of intense activity. He thought that "life has no 
period of rest ; man is a traveller towards a colder and 
colder region, and the higher his latitude, the faster 
ought to be his walk." Although lapse of years and 
a large harvest of experience cooled his fervid tem- 



ALEXIS BE TOCQUEVILLE. 209 

per, he continued through life to labor with energy 
and intensity. Graceful in his manners, firm in 
opinion, susceptible in feehng, quick and true in 
judgment, versatile in accomplishments, he was a 
delightful companion, a wise counsellor, a faithful 
friend, and an affectionate son, brother, and hus- 
band. 

He fulfilled his moral and religious duties with 
promptness and zeal. Appreciating the inestimable 
value of order, he preserved complete method in all 
his transactions. While he has instructed the world 
by the depth and accuracy of his researches in politi- 
cal science, he has also left an enviable reputation 
for many exalted virtues, which appear to have 
adorned his career from his first entrance upon the 
duties of fife. 

His mind was continually directed to a specific 
object ; he never indulged in that theoretical specu- 
lation which either rejects facts or is incapable of 
practical application. He always looked forward to 
a direct result. Rejecting all assistance from the 
perusal of other writers, and disdaining to lay the 
basis of his own productions on materials derived 
from libraries, he endeavored to strike out on untrod- 
den paths, which, being discovered by actual obser- 
vation and experience, might lead directly to the 
consequences sought. He did not regard with favor 
the intricate disputes of mental science, in which he 



210 GLIMPSES OF EI8T0BY. 

took no pains to be well versed. His mind being 
morbidly restless, he was absorbed in harassing 
thought, mingled with doubt, despondency, and 
gloom. But in none of his dark moods did a 
doubt arise as to the truth of religion. 

His oratory towards the close of his parliamentary 
career was serious, and often brilliant. He spoke 
with composure, and yet with feeling, when he ad- 
dressed the Chamber. Careless about arranging his 
thoughts, so that they might be comprehended, he 
used few words, and avoided repetition and expan- 
sion. He never could have made a popular orator, 
for he had not the faculty of so combining common- 
place with thought that his audience could sympathize 
with what he was saying. At the same time, his 
weak voice and feeble constitution were perpetual re- 
straints upon his oratory. 

He seems to have far transcended the French stan- 
dard of character in the soberness and depth of his 
speculations, and in his insight into the mysteries 
of political science. But his restlessness, his warm 
temper, his impetuous vehemence, and his affability, 
mark him as a true Frenchman. When we look upon 
him as the philosopher, witnessing, not without emo- 
tion, indeed, but calmly and thoughtfully, the great 
convulsions through which his age was passing, 
noticing the operation of every cause and the in- 
fluence of every result, treasuring up the painful 



ALEXIS BE TOCQUEVILLE. 211 

experience thus acquired for the future service of 
the nation, and searching, while the facts were new, 
for some remedy for the disorder, it must be confessed 
that few Frenchmen have exhibited to the world such 
rare proofs of judgment, reflection, and sagacity. 



X. 

THE CARDINAL-KINGS. 

SHAKSPE ARE has kept alive the memory of Car- 
dinal Wolsey by one of his finest delineations. 
Cardinal Richelieu still commands the admiration of 
men by reason of Bulwer's masterpiece. It is not 
surprising that these two should have been selected 
as heroes of the drama, for no men have filled a 
larger space in the romance of history. There is 
much to study and much to amuse in the character 
of each; much to impress and startle in the story 
of their careers ; much to surprise in the narrative 
of the ascent by which both reached the summit of 
earthly grandeur. They w^ere both a " power behind 
the throne, greater than the throne itself." They 
both derived their original advancement from the 
church. Each accomplished many great benefits for 
his country. Each fulfilled a lofty destiny. 

Wolsey and Richelieu, indeed, were representatives 
of the two sources whence the church of Rome de- 
rived her intellectual strength, and which gave her a 
hold upon earthly powers. From the two extremes of 

(212) 



TEE CARDINAL-KINGS. 213 

society, almost invariably, came the men who propped 
up the spiritual authority. They either proceeded 
from the meanest plebeians or from the haughtiest 
aristocrats. Popes were chosen from the fishermen on 
the sea shore, or from the Borgias of Venice and the 
Medicis of Florence. Cardinals might be moulded 
from bandits or from princes. 

Wolsey was the son of a butcher ; Richelieu was 
the heir of one of the noblest families in France. 
Wolsey rose to be the first subject in England by 
the sole effort of his will, and by the sole merit of 
his abilities ; Kichelieu was ushered into public life 
by a pedigree and a host of rich relations. The 
church advanced Wolsey only because Wolsey's tal- 
ents were useful ; she advanced Richelieu, at first, 
because he brought family influence and a good un- 
derstanding to her aid. These princes of the church, 
these priestly statesmen, did wonderful things, each 
in his own age. England in the sixteenth century 
was clearly marked by the strong individuality of 
Wolsey 's genius. France in the seventeenth cen- 
tury became under Richelieu the model of an abso- 
lute power. 

There were but few qualities in common between 
these remarkable men. They were both virtually 
sovereigns ; neither was satisfied with political domin- 
ion, but both aspired to the papal throne. Both pos- 
sessed great ambition, wills of iron, craft, duplicity. 



214 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

intellectual breadth, corruptness of heart, and cour- 
age. Both were preeminent as statesmen, both 
were liberal patrons of literature, both were attentive 
students of human nature. Here the resemblance 
ceases ; and, by sketching the career and character 
of each, it will be seen what opposite motives actu- 
ated them, and how differently they acquired, held, 
and used the power to which they attained. Their 
geniuses were different, their origins were different, 
and the influences with which their nationalities sur- 
rounded them were as different as the Celt is from 
the Saxon. 

Cardinal Wolsey, as we have said, rose from the 
lowest grade of the English community. He early 
displayed abilities inconsistent with his station, and 
his father, who had become well off in the exercise 
of his vocation, sent him to the University of Oxford. 
Here he gained distinction as a scholar ; and after 
graduation, the Marquess of Dorset made him tutor 
to his sons, and took him under his patronage. He 
went into the church, and was made rector of a coun- 
try parish, which belonged to the marquess. Wol- 
sey 's ambitious spirit soon after showed itself; for he 
aspired, with success, to the place of chaplain in the 
king's household. Once there, he had an ample field 
wherein to exert his talents of insinuation, and made 
haste to cultivate it. Henry the Seventh was then 
reigning, but was soon to die ; the young prince 



* TEE CARDINAL-KINGS. 215 

would ere lono^ ascend the throne. The cunnins: 
and watchful nature of Wolsey was not long in per- 
ceiving the opportunity. He began to cultivate the 
good graces of Prince Henry — to humor his tastes, 
to mould his mind, to yield to his prejudices. With 
a keen eye to the future, he so played the game, that 
Henry the Eighth, when he ascended the throne, 
loved no man better than his obsequious chaplain. 
The king was easy tempered, licentious, self-indul- 
gent, vain, wilful ; Wolsey was cringing, worldly, 
and crafty. He became Henry's closest confidant 
and nearest adviser. He relieved Henry of the cares 
of state, and provided everything to gratify his pas- 
sions. As may be imagined, his rise was rapid. 
The king showered upon him his choicest favors. 
Wolsey became a bishop, an archbishop, a cardi- 
nal, and lord chancellor. He had prebends, and 
deaneries, and parishes, whence money poured by 
thousands into his coffers. His income became 
larger than that of the crown. He gained such an 
ascendency over the king, that Henry had no other 
favorite, and the ministers were but the echoes of the 
cardinal's will. He received ambassadors, legates, 
and lord mayors in his own palace, while Henry 
spent his days in sensual pleasure. All the burden 
of government fell upon Wolsey, all the sweets of 
royalty were enjoyed without hinderance by the 
king. The monarchs of Europe paid the minister 



216 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. * 

that deference which was due to royalty. Wolsey's 
whole effort was to retain the affections of Henry ; 
for Henry had a will, and it must be* kept asleep, or 
it would rise and destroy. Wolsey's sole dependence 
was on the king ; for beyond the king there was no 
friend so powerful as to hold him in his place. Not 
content with so great an eminence, the cardinal, with 
a rapacity of ambition never excelled, intrigued for 
the popedom ; but it was only as a means by wliich 
to gratify the gross passions of his low-born nature. 
Wolsey's character was a singular mixture of intellec- 
tual strength, avarice, vanity, and sensuality. As 
a statesman he displayed a vigor and activity which 
seems wonderful, when we reflect how licentious, 
how gluttonous, how vicious he was. His adminis- 
tration is marked by the power, the prosperity, and 
the activity which England, during its term, enjoyed. 
He was bold in all his public measures ; unscrupu- 
lous in the imposition of taxes ; tyrannical in the 
exercise of the judicial office ; insolent towards for- 
eign nations ; indefatigable in executing Henry's wUl 
as directed by himself. While he possessed a great 
desire for riches, he was magnificent in their outlay, 
and his vanity took the ostentatious turn of erecting 
palaces, displaying equipages, employing a numerous 
and splendidly clothed retinue, and in giving tlie most 
sumptuous banquets and pageants. His predominant 
passions were avarice and a love of display. He was 



TEE CABDINAL-KINGB. 217 

selfish to the heart's core. There was nothing truth- 
ful or sincere in his nature. He was a disgrace to 
the profession of divinity, for he was not pious, nor 
did he have the impudence to appear so. He was 
covetous and envious, cruel and implacable in his 
hatreds. Indeed, a contemplation of this singular 
man discovers to us but two amiable qualities — cour- 
age and hospitality. For women he had no rever- 
ence or respect ; Kcentious himself, he only saw 
women in a Kght which might well make him despise 
the sex. Of their virtues he knew nothing; with 
their vices he was entirely famihar. When the king 
tired of his wives, they were treated with a brutality 
by this descendant of butchers, compared with which 
even Henry's neglect was happiness. He loved the 
society of vulgar men and dissolute women, and, 
while by day he governed with consummate ability a 
great empire, by night the noise of his revels scandal- 
ized the good citizens of the capital. His manners 
were of a piece with his nature, for they were coarse, 
boisterous, and arrogant. Having much pride of 
station, and being, as" low-born favorites of kings are 
apt to be, eager to show his importance to those who 
approached him, he affected a dignity of demeanor 
which sat awkwardly upon him, and only increased 
the dislike which his character provoked. There was 
something attractive to the multitude in the splendor 
with which this man surrounded himself. His noble 
10 



218 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBT. 

palace, his numerous household, his gilded chariots, 
his brilliant raiment, the magnificent profusion of his 
feasts, struck the lower classes with wonder, and 
caused foreign envoys to lift their hands with pro- 
found astonishment. 

There were in Wolsej's household no less than 
eight hundred persons, whose constant duty it was 
to serve the cardinal, and to ornament his dignity. 
One of his gentlemen ushers has left to us an ac- 
count of one of his feasts, which was given in honor of 
some French ambassador, who had arrived at London 
to make a treaty with Henry. Cooks were sent for 
from every part of England. Two hundred and 
eighty beds of silk were prepared. The chambers 
were hung with arras and tapestries, and were lighted 
up by exquisitely chased silver candlesticks and chan- 
deliers. The dishes, served on gold and silver, were 
of the rarest devices in the culinary art; and the 
wines were plentiful and costly. The cardinal's at- 
tendants who served at the feast were clothed in vel- 
vet, gold, and jewels. Such was the splendor in which 
he lived, and in which he loved to live. It seemed 
to be his ambition to be great that he might be osten- 
tatious. In these feasts, which frequently took place, 
this father of the church participated, and was not 
surpassed by any in the coarseness of his jests, the 
loudness of his laughter, and the excess of his indul- 
gence ; and, bethinking himself far above the reach 



THE CAMDINAL-KINGS. 219 

of scandal, he was indiiFerent to the disgust of the 
community. 

But Wolsey, though active in pubHc affairs, neg- 
lected so to fortify himself with a high and virtuous 
statesmanship, as to render him, in some degree at 
least, independent of the king's caprice. Upon that 
slender thread he risked his destiny. He devoted 
his entire care to retaining the king ; learned the arts 
of a courtier with such effect, that he was the most 
accomplished flatterer of his age ; was under such 
self-government when in Henry's presence, that he 
could, without a twinge, balk his predominant pas- 
sions ; and, with a shrewdness which was never 
caught asleep, managed to keep at a distance the 
king's other counsellors, and to surround him with 
his own instruments. 

But efforts the most untiring, and a craft the 
most subtle, are insufficient to keep a permanent 
hold on human caprice. Wolsey 's ambition, so en- 
tirely insatiable, led him on to destruction. In his 
anxiety to keep well with the powers at Rome, he 
paid deference to their opinion regarding the divorce 
of Catharine. This, with some other acts of his, at 
last incensed the sluggish temper of Henry ; and from 
the moment that Wolsey heard of the king's anger, 
he knew himself to be lost. The blow soon came. 
In 1529 Henry sent to demand of liim the great seal, 
confiscated his personal estate, and dismissed him 



220 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

from court. The enemies of the fallen minister in 
ParHament instantly seized the occasion to attack 
him. Forty-four articles of impeachment were 
drawn up, and he was summoned to appear before 
the House of Lords. That assembly passed the 
articles ; but the House of Commons, through the 
efforts of Thomas Cromwell, rejected them. Wolsey 
retired, bowed with intense affliction, to his see of 
York, and devoted himself, rather late in life, to 
works oi charity. But he was not destined to 
remain undisturbed, even in the seclusion of his 
priestly office. He was arrested on a charge of 
high treason, and committed to the custody of the 
lieutenant of the Tower. On his way to London, 
he fell sick at Sheffield ; and there, unable any longer 
to sustain the destruction of his fortunes, he died in 
the midst of agony and remorse. It has been said 
that Wolsey put a period to his existence by poison. 
Such an act, if he did commit it, was not inconsistent 
with a career in which the salient features were cor- 
ruption, debauchery, and ungovernable pride. He 
was not, however, so far depraved as to indulge in 
crime for the mere pleasure of being wicked. He 
was not accused of causing the death of any man 
who stood in his path. He did not use the power he 
possessed with wanton tyranny, and, excepting when 
money was to be obtained, or the king's and his own 
passions were to be pampered, the people were left at 



TEE CARDINAL-KING8. 221 

peace. Under Wolsey's administration England was 
strong, and was respected and feared by foreign 
powers. He often directed his liberality to worthy 
objects, and one monument of his endowment remains 
in Christ Church, the most considerable college of 
Oxford University. Wolsey was hated by the court 
and the nobility, and by a large party among the 
people. His mean origin, whilst it scandalized the 
aristocracy and the church, made him popular with 
certain portions of the lower classes, who were proud 
of a man who had risen to such a height from their 
own grade. Wolsey's influence upon the morals of 
his age was very bad ; his example to the priesthood 
in England, by inspiring the ' religious community 
with disgust at the church, doubtless hastened the 
approach of a reformation which caused its over- 
throw. His abilities, prompting as they did Henry's 
obstinate nature, and sustaining the king's determi- 
nations by vigorous and cunning measures, served to 
strengthen royal power, and to accelerate the extinc- 
tion of the lingering vestiges of feudalism. The peo- 
ple had not then grown to that stage of civilization 
when they could organize and eiFectually resist the 
demands of the crown ; and Wolsey's knowledge of 
men, and especially of Englishmen, taught him how 
far to venture, and in what manner to proceed. His 
career is wonderful for the perseverance with which 
he aspired to and retained the highest authority in the 



222 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBY. 

state ; his virtues were few, his vices many ; his fame 
is an unenviable one, and yet there is a fascination in 
his history, and it makes us sad when he falls at last, 
stripped of every honor and hope, and seeking death 
as the only sure refuge from his unparalleled misery. 
Cardinal Richelieu possessed every advantage which 
wealth and rank could confer. He was descended of 
the best blood of France. He was heir to a substan- 
tial fortune. He was born and reared, lived and died, 
in the metropolis which was the scene of his remark- 
able career. He was the son of Francois Duplessis, 
Baron E-ichelieu, and his own family name was Ar- 
mand Jean Duplessis. His education was of so elab- 
orate a nature, that while still a youth he was called 
learned. That military capacity which displayed 
itself at Rochelle, to the amazement of a court which 
conceded to him a wonderful variety of powers, was 
an evidence how warlike a nature was concealed 
beneath the sacred lace. This warlike nature had 
been early developed, and Richelieu had at first 
designed to adopt the army as a profession. It hap- 
pened, however, that there was a bishopric in the 
nomination of his family — the diocese of Lucon ; and 
this, before Armand's choice of a militarv life had 
become definitely fixed, became vacant by the resig- 
nation of an older brother. Richelieu, thus early, 
had conceived a high ambition, and was eager to ap- 
proach eminence by a short path. Abandoning the 



TEE CABDINAL-KINQS. 223 

thought of following the campaigns, he, with a sur- 
prising readiness, began to substitute the Latin trea- 
tises and prosy homilies of the doctors for his text 
books on tactics and thrilling histories of war. 
While he, no doubt, adopted theology as a matter 
of convenience, he yet had a respect for religion, and 
an ingenuous reverence for the Romish church. He 
was encouraged by his family, who — as families are 
apt to do — appreciated his fine talents and ambitious 
tone, to look forward to the highest distinctions of 
France. At the age of twenty-two, he was duly con- 
secrated as bishop, and straightway laid his plans for 
advancement. He was less assiduous in performing 
the local duties in his diocese than in attending con- 
ferences, securing appointments, and in mingling in 
those political machinations to which the church of 
Rome has ever been addicted. His active partici- 
pation in church affairs ; the unusual intelligence 
which, for one so young, he displayed ; the sleepless 
activity which marked his actions ; the astonishing 
acuteness of his mind, — soon drew to him the atten- 
tion of his colleagues, and attracted the notice of the 
higher dignitaries of the church. Richelieu was 
ever watchful of his opportunity. He detected at 
a glance the effect of acts and events upon his own 
fortunes. He studied constantly wherein to better 
himself. He by no means confined himself to re- 
searches in theology, though upon these he bestowed 



224 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBY. 

great attention ; he also informed himself in prin- 
ciples of the martial art, of history, of diplomacy, of 
finance, of law, of public economy, and of every 
branch of statecraft and political machinery. The 
church in those days was a wide portal by which to 
enter the service of the state ; the time had not gone 
by when priests and bishops were the ablest ministers 
and most trusted advisers of kings. No man knew 
this better than Richelieu ; and his ambition promptly 
directed him in the path towards political power. He 
assiduously attached himself to those who possessed 
influence at the Louvre, and ingratiated himself into 
the favor of men who knew the mode of approaching 
power. Through Barbin, comptroller of the royal 
treasury, he became known to the Marshal D'Ancre. 
Marshal D'Ancre attracted to him the notice of the 
queen dowager, Marie de Medicis. Thus bright 
were his prospects at thirty. Marie de Medicis 
gave the young prelate audience, liked him at first 
sight, and told him to repeat his visit. He became 
intimate with the palace, and was taken into the 
dowager's confidence. There was one circumstance 
from which he, at first, anticipated great obstacles. 
The young king, Louis the Thirteenth, a weak and 
whimsical prince, conceived a dislike for the new 
favorite of his mother. Louis neither comprehend- 
ed the tone of Richelieu's mind, nor liked his ener- 
getic and aspiring manner. But Louis, after all. 



TEE CAHDINAL-KINGS, 225 

possessed no firmness, and bis dislikes were as harm- 
less as his ideas were absurd. Marie de Medicis 
was still the virtual sovereign ; she neither asked nor 
cared to know what Louis thought. So, in spite of 
the opposition of the king, Bishop Kichelieu was 
nominated a member of the council of state. Here 
he found an ample field for the exercise of the subtle 
arts of which, he was a master. He had not long 
been a member of the council, before his superiority 
over the other advisers of the crown began to be 
apparent. Shrewd, able, and energetic, the meas- 
ures which he proposed, and the advice which he 
gave, were adopted as the wisest suggested. But 
this tide of good fortune was not to flow on without 
interruption. Marie, his devoted patroness, more 
than suspected of complicity in the murder of Mar- 
shal D'Ancre, was compelled to retire with ignominy 
from the capital. Richelieu saw this with alarm ; 
the king was still prejudiced against him ; the power 
which had sustained him was gone. ♦With all the 
finesse of which his nature was capable, he endeav- 
ored to reconcile mother and son ; but his efibrts were 
of no avail. He himself was ordered to depart from 
Paris, and to reoccupy his restricted sphere as bishop 
in the diocese of Lu^on. 

Richelieu took advantage of the abundant leisure 
which was now at his disposal, in writing some the- 
oiogical essays, which gave evidence that, had he con- 
10* 



226 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

fined his attention to his profession, he would have 
become eminent. It was found quite impossible to 
suppress Marie de Medicis, and she after some time 
returned to her apartments in the Louvre, and re- 
sumed the control of the state. Richelieu was now 
not only recalled, but was restored to his seat in the 
council, married his niece to a duke, became prime 
minister, and, beyond all, was made a cardinal. This 
series of distinctions was conferred upon him when 
he was but thirty-seven. Louis was constant in his 
dislike of Richelieu ; yet Richelieu seems to have 
acquired and retained the premiership without the 
least regard to the king's wishes, and unimpeded by 
a sinofle remonstrance. 

The great career of Cardinal Richelieu began from 
this point, — a career as splendidly successful as any 
which French history records, — surpassing that of 
any subject, and equalled only by those of Louis the 
Eleventh, Henry the Fourth, and Louis the Four- 
teenth. He had no sooner assumed the highest office, 
than the whole control of the sovereignty centred in 
him. His strong mind became visible in every act 
of public policy, in every treaty, in every regulation 
of police. Louis was never heard of: all that was 
known of the king was, that he existed ; that on such a 
morning he went from Paris to Versailles ; or that on 
such a night he danced at a ball in Gaston's palace. 
The broad aims to which Richelieu now devoted him- 



TEE CAJRDINAL-KINGS. ' 227 

self were no less than the consolidation of the French 
monarchy, the extinction of feudalism, the eradication 
of Protestantism, and the annihilation of the power of 
Austria on the continent of Europe. His great mind 
grasped the situation of Europe in a moment. He 
saw the necessities and the opportunities of France. 
He gave himself up to the work of her exaltation with 
all the glowing energy of his character, inspired alike 
bj ambition to sway the destinies of the continent, 
and by the thought that he was serving his beloved 
France. He aimed successive blows at the Austri- 
ans and the Protestants — drove the former from the 
western passes, attacked and conquered in person 
the stronghold of the latter at Eochelle. Protes- 
tantism ceased to be a political power in France. 
Richelieu, with equal success, set about subduing the 
high spirit of the nobihty, prohibited duelling, and 
boldly threw the haughtiest nobles into the Bastile. 
In a few years the aristocratic influence in the state 
had visibly declined, and the nobility had been brought 
into complete subordination to the royal authority. 
Having thus dealt Austria and Protestantism effective 
blows, and humbled the feudal element, meanwhile 
retaining the entire power of the crown in his own 
hands, he met vv^ith a second obstacle to his govern- 
ment. The Duke of Nevers continued to exercise an 
independent authority in Mantua. Richelieu attacked 
him. Nevers was a favorite of Marie de Medicis and 



228 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBY. 

of Anne of Austria, the queen of Louis. For the 
first time Marie and Richelieu were at variance; 
and the difference, so suddenly sprung up, soon 
increased to a mutual hatred. Bichelieu was dis- 
missed from the court; Marillac was nominated 
premier. As the great minister retired, he was 
assailed by insult and ridicule, not only from the 
populace, but from those very courtiers who had 
cringed upon him and partaken of his favors. The 
new premier received the gross flatteries which always 
welcome a new authority. Richelieu instantly turned 
towards Versailles : Louis was there, idling away his 
time in frivolous sports. The cardinal had conceived 
a strange idea : he would reconcile the king to him, 
and through him return to power. Few men would 
have ventured on this expedient, and no other man 
could have been successful. But Marillac had hardly 
taken his seat at the council before the news came 
that Louis and Richelieu were friends, and that they 
were on their way to Paris. 

Richelieu, on resuming the seals of state, sternly 
revenged himself upon his enemies. Marillac was 
banished ; nay, Marie de Medicis, the mother of the 
king, the widow of Henri le Grand, convicted of a 
plot against the minister, was driven from Paris, and 
went into exile. Richeheu continued in the course 
which he had formerly begun, and year after year 
— though assailed by kings and queens, threatened 



THE CARDINAL-KINOS. 229 

constantly with assassination, hated by the nobility, 
distrusted by the people — augmented his own power, 
and strengthened the monarchy at home and abroad. 
When thQ issue presented itself, whether to take sides 
with Austria or with Protestantism, Eichelieu, whose 
theology was less positive than his hatred of the Haps- 
burgs, sided with the Protestants. He was created 
a duke of France, and was now on the very pinnacle 
of earthly glory; being in fact a king, with more 
power and more wealth at his command than any 
former sovereign of France. It was a checkered and 
turbulent life ; there were wars, rebellions, insurrec- 
tions, mobs, conspiracies, executions: at every point 
Eichelieu emerged successful. At the very acme of 
his fame and his power this illustrious prince died, 
his body exhausted by wonderful labors, but his mind 
active and restless to the last. This event occurred 
in December, 1642, soon after he had completed his 
fifty-seventh year. 

The character and career of Cardinal Eichelieu, 
as is apparent from the two sketches presented, were 
quite in contrast with those of Cardinal Wolsev. 
Wolsey's ambition was an exclusively selfish one ; his 
entire effort was for self-exaltation. Eichelieu's am- 
bition was not an exclusively selfish one ; indeed, he 
had one object, for which, without doubt, he would 
have sacrificed himself without hesitation. To obtain 
power and glory for France, to save France from 



230 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

calamity, he would have suffered martyrdom. He 
sought the head of affairs not more that he might be 
powerful, than that he might serve France. It is no 
rhetorical hyperbole when Bulwer makes him say, — 

" I have re-created France," — 

for France, under his rule, became the first of conti- 
nental powers. He had great genius, and he was 
conscious of it : he knew that under the weak Louis, 
France would degenerate ; he seized the helm, and 
France was powerful and prosperous. Richelieu was 
entirely unscrupulous in the means which he employed 
to accomplish his ends. He could be cruel, unjust, 
a tyrant, a dissembler, if by being so he could suc- 
ceed. Wolsey was made and was destroyed by the 
nod of a king ; Eichelieu made himself in spite of 
kings and courtiers, maintained himself against them, 
and died holding them at bay. Wolsey was avari- 
cious, and a debauchee ; Richelieu cared neither for 
money nor society. Wolsey, though far from being a 
peaceable man, could never have fought a battle ; much 
of Richelieu's fame rests on his personal siege of Ro- 
chelle. Wolsey was always in the world, out among 
men ; Richelieu won his victories in the silence and 
gloom of his closet. Wolsey was generous ; Riche- 
lieu had but little magnanimity, and no sympathy. 
Richelieu had by far the greater genius, and achieved 
greater things for France than Wolsey did for Eng- 
land. 



THE CARDINAL-KINGS. 231 

Above all, the point in which the fame of Richelieu 
is more enduring than that of Wolsey is, that he pro- 
posed to himself, and successfully achieved, a great 
political idea : that idea was the annihilation of feu- 
dalism, the supremacy of the church, and the mon- 
archy. 



XL 

A CENTUM OF ENGLISH HISTOEY. 

1760-1860. 

QIR EDWAKD BULWER LYTTON, who is a 

^ statesman as well as a novelist, has wisely said 
that the rivalries of parties are " the sinews of free- 
dom." Doubtless the example of liis own country 
afforded him the ground for the reflection ; for it is in 
a great measure owing to the activity of parties in 
Parliament and through the press, that Great Britain 
has, within the century just passed, made substantial 
improvements in her constitution. If, indeed, we 
consider the nations as a whole, we discover that the 
presence or absence of party zeal is attended by a 
large margin of liberty, or an undue influence exerted 
by some single department of government. If we 
contemplate the arbitrary poHties of France, Austria, 
and Russia, we find the liberty of press and speech 
restrained, and only one ostensible party — that 
which sustains the reigning dynasty. If there be an 
opposition, — as of course there is, — it is repressed 
by the dominant authority, and finds vent only in low 

(232) 



A CENTUBY OF ENGLISH HISTORY, 233 

mutterings and in secluded places. The promptness 
manifested by despots to quell even verbal opposition 
to their less important measures, indicates that they 
recognize in a free press, and in freedom of political 
action, a great step made towards their overthrow 
and the establishment of liberal ideas. Partisan 
rivalry, then, is a means resulting in liberty ; while, 
on the other hand, its suppression is an indication of 
despotism. By considering the state of parties in the 
liberal polities of America, Great Britain, and Italy, 
we find that a vigorous, and yet constitutional oppo- 
sition, quick to discern and to expose the errors of 
the party which is intrusted with the power, always 
professing to act in the spirit of the laws, and seldom 
descending to the arts of faction and intrigue, seems 
to guarantee a just equipoise between the inherently 
antagonistic elements of the executive and the people. 
The gradual development of civil liberty from the 
action of parties, each restraining the other, and each 
throwing its weight into an opposite scale, is admira- 
bly exemplified by the history of Great Britain within 
the past century. 

It is well worth our while to contemplate the 
changes which, in that period, have taken place, and 
which, while they have preserved the genius of the 
ancient constitution, have yet so modified it that the 
preponderance of power, which a century ago resided 
in the crown, has been transferred to the representa- 



234 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

tives of the people ; and while they have not over- 
thrown the monarchical form, they have certainly 
drawn nearer and nearer to the spirit of republican 
doctrines. 

From the time of the abdication of James the 
Second to the accession of George the Third, the 
Whig party held the power almost without interrup- 
tion. They had been chiefly instrumental in the 
achievement of the revolution. They had secured 
the succession of the Brunswick line. They pos- 
sessed a majority of the old families and of the 
wealth in the nation. They had suppressed the 
rebellion which, in 1745, had threatened to de- 
throne the reigning house, and restore the heir of 
the exiled dynasty. In the opposition were mainly 
the nonjuring clergy and prelates, those who had 
opposed the revolution and the act of settlement, 
and those who, it was thought, did not look with 
disfavor upon the northern insurrections. The two 
first sovereigns of the House of Brunswick gave up 
to the Whigs the undivided confidence of the court, 
and left to them the control of the executive, while 
they themselves turned their attention to the care of 
their electoral dominions. 

George the Third found the popular leader, Wil- 
liam Pitt,* at the head of affairs. This statesman 
possessed to a remarkable degree the confidence of 

* Afterwards Earl of Chatham. 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 235 

the people. He had conducted with success and 
splendor a long and tedious war. He had brought 
to his administration order, promptness, and exact- 
ness. Never had minister been so successful in every 
movement, or so idolized by every class. It was 
hoped that the new king would continue so useful a 
servant. But George came to the throne under cir- 
cumstances materially different from those under 
which his two predecessors had assumed power. 
He was a native-born Englishman. He had been 
educated by English tutors, and comprehended Eng- 
glish manners, opinions, and institutions. His early 
life had been spent in the court of his father, Fred- 
erick, Prince of Wales, who, from his enmity to the 
king, had espoused the cause, and assumed the lead- 
ership, of the Tory opposition. He was, at the time 
of his accession, under the influence of the princess 
dowager, who was a bitter and persistent Tory, as 
well as a proud and ambitious woman. His own 
nature was self-willed, and he readily imbibed the 
precepts carefully impressed upon him in his early 
years, which persuaded him that he, and not the 
people, was the true source of law and government. 
He ascended the throne with a fixed determination, 
not only to secure the royal prerogative in its present 
limits, but to elevate it to the paramount authority in 
the constitution. To recover the power which had 
been wrested from the Stuarts, to bring the House 



236 GLIMPSES OF EIBTORT. 

of Commons into subordination to the crown, and to 
acquire for himself an unlimited control over com- 
merce, the colonies, the army, and the treasury, were 
the designs which the young monarch proposed to 
accomplish. Within a year after his assumption, so 
vigorously had he pursued his policy, the whole 
aspect of the administration was changed. Pitt 
and Temple had gone over to the benches of the 
opposition, followed by the flower of the Whig party. 
Lord Bute, a shallow and pedantic Scotchman, sat at 
the head of the treasury. One by one the old min- 
istry had retired, — some bought off, others disgust- 
ed, others treated with contempt by the king and his 
favorite. The new ministers were entirely devoted to 
the doctrines of the sovereign. Bute, who was to 
him rather as a father than as a subject, had greatly 
contributed to crowd his mind with exalted notions 
of kingly power. The first step of the new adminis- 
tration was to deprive the Whig leaders of all the 
influence which could be brought to bear against 
their designs. All departments of the government 
swarmed with eager disciples of Toryism. But the 
premier, who had always been hated, not less because 
he was a Scotchman than because of his arbitrary 
opinions, capricious intellect, and unbounded in- 
fluence over the king, soon fell before the storm 
which burst upon him from all sides. Grenville 
succeeded him, and followed in the same rigid prin- 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH EISTOBY. 237 

ciples wliich had contributed to the downfall of Bute. 
The king was soon obliged to recall the Whigs to 
power ; and under the Marquess of Rockingham the 
nation enjoyed for a brief period a slight degree of 
security. Then followed the long and arbitrary min- 
istry of North, and the short ones of Rockingham, 
Shelburne, and Portland, succeeded by the twenty 
years' government of the younger Pitt. During all 
this period there was a continual contest between 
king and people for the predominance of power ; and 
in nearly every collision the court gained the suprem- 
acy. By interfering with the once undisputed privi- 
leges of Parliament; by exerting every instrument 
of patronage, from the creation of peers to the em- 
ployment of secret service funds ; by influencing, 
through threats, promises, bribes, arbitrary decis- 
ions, and all manner of corruption, the elections of 
members of Parliament ; by encouraging, while the 
Whigs were in power, a factious opposition to the 
measures of his own ministers ; by attempting to 
break up distinctions of party, which alone preserved 
a restraint upon liis measures ; by personal appeals to 
the loyalty of statesmen ; and by assuming the almost 
exclusive direction of every branch of the executive, 
thereby annulling the authority and responsibility of 
ministers ; by such artifices as these the king suc- 
ceeded in arrogating to himself an extent of preroga- 
tive unknown since the revolution. Popular commo- 



238 GLIMPSES OF EISTOBY. 

tions attested the extreme opposition to the measures 
of the court ; and certainly the detriment which the 
liberties of the subject suffered warranted the greatest 
discontent. Such was the power of the crown over 
the elections, that the House of Commons could never 
be said to represent the clearly defined will of their 
constituents. The large towns, where alone inde- 
pendence of suffrage could at that day be expected, 
had no representation in Parliament. The boroughs 
were under the dictation of the nobility, the wealthy 
land-owners, and in manv instances under the imme- 
diate control of the government. Where such in- 
fluences did not operate, the court was enabled by 
means of lotteries, open sale, pensions, and every 
means of individual corruption, to carry its measures. 
If, after all such expedients, a powerful opposition 
appeared at Westminster, the agents of the ministry 
disbursed the secret service money, and thereby 
bought eloquence and votes to support regal power. 
In Scotland and Ireland these abuses of the electoral 
privilege were even more flagrant than in England.' 
In vain did the Whigs introduce resolutions and acts 
curtailing undue influences, and increasing the num- 
ber of legal voters. Not only did the ministry de- 
scend to the practice of bribing, but the king himself 
was frequently known to supervise this disgraceful 
transaction. 

So shameless had this system of reducing the 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 239 

House of Commons to submission become, that in 
1762 Henry Fox, afterwards rewarded for his valu- 
able services in this department of intrigue with a 
peerage,* opened a public shop in his official resi- 
dence for the purpose of making disbursements to 
those members who were willing to be paid for their 
votes. It was by such means — which in his own 
age were hardly discountenanced, but which at the 
present day would be looked upon as flagrantly crim- 
inal — that George the Third obtained the cooperation 
of the lower House. By his numerous creations of 
peers, his pensions, his bribes in the form of loans 
and contracts, and their own natural predilections in 
favor of the crown, he also engaged the House of 
Lords to cooperate with him. By this undue influ- 
ence of the crown, many liberties of the subject, 
heretofore thought established, were compromised. 
The king insisted on a rigid enforcement of the test 
act, and other intolerant measures, and refused to lis- 
ten to a proposal for the abolition of statutes by which 
Koman Catholics and dissenters were excluded from 
office. His course in persistently claiming the right 
to tax dependent colonies needs no remark from this 
side of the water. Although the right of petition 
had been acknowledged under a tyrannical Stuart, 
this Brunswick monarch reproved those w^ho exercised 
it, and refused to receive their complaints. While 

* As Lord Holland. 



240 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

he declined to be considered as himself responsible for 
the measures of his government, he also denied that 
his ministers were so ; " thus depriving the Commons 
of an important remedy — that of impeachment. In 
like manner the freedom of the press was greatly 
abridged, and repeated prosecutions for libels discour- 
aged free discussion. 

The ministers of the crown looked to the king, and 
not to the people, for their security in office. Men 
ambitious for peerages and pensions, peers ambitious 
of the Garter or lord lieutenancies, statesmen ambi- 
tious to shape domestic or foreign policy, sought 
prominence in the anterooms of St. James's, and not 
on the floor of Westminster. In this turbulent, but 
on the whole successful reign, the sovereign had the 
satisfaction of governing in spite of the national will. 
George the Fourth succeeded to the regency in 1812, 
and to the throne in 1820. His early procKvities had 
been favorable to the liberal party, mainly because he 
hated his father, and his father was a Tory. But indo- 
lent and pleasure-loving as he was, he had the sagacity 
to perceive in the policy of Lord Grey the curtailment 
of royal power, and a consequent struggle between 
the aristocratic and democratic elements of the con- 
stitution. He had no sooner entered the regency, 
therefore, than he deserted the friends of his younger 
days, and cordially allied himself to such radical 
Tories as the Earl of Eldon and the Earl of Liver- 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 241 

pool. To such a height had the paramount authority 
of the crown been raised by the brilliant and popular 
government of the younger Pitt, that the mere pref- 
erence of George the Fourth for the Tories entailed 
that party on the country up to his death in 1830. 
But there was vastly more liberty and popular power 
in the reign of this king than in that of his pred- 
ecessor. 

That patriotic band of statesmen who had continu- 
ally labored for years to insure to the people a just 
participation in the control of the government, had 
gradually gained importance and influence by the 
pertinacity with which they adhered to their great 
object, and the increasing intelligence of the people. 
Lord Chatham had opened the question of parlia- 
mentary reform in the early part of George the 
Third's reign. It had been, of course, received 
with extreme disfavor by the king and lords, and 
therefore proved abortive. But the example thus set 
brought each year new and able champions of the 
cause into the field. Such statesmen as Burke, Fox, 
Sheridan, and Windham dealt powerful blows at the 
undue influence of the crown and great landholders 
in popular elections, the corrupt disposal of public 
moneys, and the slavish acquiescence of ministers in 
the policy of an arbitrary monarch. The younger Pitt 
commenced his political career by advocating the 
same cause ; but unhappily seduced by the favor 
11 



242 GLIMPSES OF HISTORT. 

of his sovereign, having acquired power by sustain- 
ing the prerogative, and retaining no security for his 
position except the cooperation of the royal influence, 
he deserted his early principles, and became the ablest 
and most ardent antagonist of the reformers. Having 
resigned the treasury because he could not carry the 
Catholic bill with the consent of the king, he again 
returned to office by acquiescing in the abandonment 
of that measure. The great race which had opened 
the question of reform had now passed away ; and 
were succeeded by the upright Grey, the stubborn 
Grenville, the liberal-minded Romilly, and the bril- 
liant Brougham. It was the glory of these men, that 
although excluded from office for a quarter of a cen- 
tury, they continued steadfast in the pursuit of the 
object to which they had from youth devoted their 
whole energies. 

Probably the individual character of George the 
Fourth alone prevented the consummation of parlia- 
mentary reform for eighteen years. Sustained by 
such intellects as Peel, Wellington, Eldon, Castle- 
reagh, and Stowell, continuing to exercise the pre- 
rogatives of honors, pensions, secret service bribes, 
and himself popular among all classes, he maintained 
a successful opposition to the proposed innovations 
upon the old system of suffrage. But the public 
mind became more and more impatient as years con- 
firmed regal power. The party, which had been but 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 243 

a handful in 1780, became in 1820 a vigorous and 
dangerous opposition. The press, whose rights had 
been successfully asserted in the preceding reigu, was 
now unrestricted, and was enabled to present power- 
ful arguments in favor of innovation. Universal 
public opinion had forced the discontinuance of many- 
species of. bribery. The proceedings of Parliament 
became as weU known at York and Dublin as within 
the precincts of Westminster Hall. The rapid prog- 
ress of liberal ideas is well illustrated by the various 
divisions of the House of Commons at different times. 
In 1793 Mr. Grey, afterwards Lord Grey, made a 
lucid and forcible statement of the abuses of the elec- 
toral system, and moved the consideration of that 
question ; which was negatived by a vote of forty- 
one to two hundred and thirty-two. Lord John 
RusseU opened the subject again in 1822, and was 
defeated by a vote of one hundred and sixty-four to 
two hundred and sixty-nine. A proposition to en- 
franchise the great commercial towns, in 1830, was 
rejected by one hundred and forty to one hundred 
and eighty-eight. The reform bill of 1831 passed 
the House of Commons by a majority of one hun- 
dred and nine. 

We have mentioned one cause of the retardation 
of reform — the inequality between the first and third 
estates of the realm — the king and the Commons. 
To this must be added another — the influence of the 



244 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

Frencli revolution. While, on the one hand, that 
event frightened many statesmen, who had before 
embraced liberal doctrines, back into conservatism, 
and thus deprived the reformists of many illustrious 
advocates, on the other hand, it brought into exist- 
ence a spirit of fanaticism, which called loudly, in the 
language of E-obespierre and Bar^re, for "universal 
suffrage," and "equality of rights." This class, who 
insinuated themselves into the confidence of the igno- 
rant and disaffected, became represented in Parlia- 
ment and the press. Composing, as they did, a wing 
of the reform party, though the latter by no means 
sympathized with their creed, the people inferred that 
by taking one step towards innovation, the nation 
might be led on to take further steps, and finally 
drift into all the consequences of a pure democracy. 
These fanatics became, therefore, extremely embar- 
rassing as auxiliaries to the Grey party. If the latter 
attempted to introduce a moderate system of improve- 
ment, they received, on the one hand, the unwelcome 
plaudits of the democrats, on the other hand, the 
scathing insinuations of the conservatives. The calm 
and philosophic mind of Burke, shocked at the anarchy 
and atheism of the Jacobins of Paris, became a sincere 
convert to high prerogative and restricted suffrage. 
The Whigs were dispirited at these manifold dispar- 
agements, and the cause of reform slept for many 
years after. Excepting occasional wild projects, pro- 



A CENTUBY OF ENGLISH EIBTOBY. 245 

posed, in spite of repeated repulses and disgust, by- 
such mob leaders as John Wilkes, hardly an attempt 
was made to remodel in any way the inequitable pre- 
cedents of the constitution . Finally , in the year 1831, 
the second of the reign of William the Fourth, a reform 
bill passed Parliament and received the royal assent. 
This measure is deservedly regarded by Englishmen 
as equal in importance to such papers as the Magna 
Charta, the Petition of Kight, and the Declaration of 
Rights. It was in substance the same plan which had 
been persistently adhered to for a quarter of a cen- 
tury by the opposition, and was conducted through the 
legislature by such advocates as Brougham, Grey, 
Russell, Lambton, and Althorp. A king had at last^ 
mounted the throne who cared more for the welfare 
of his people than for the extension of his power. An 
immense majority of the nation was now enlisted on 
the side of reform. The two estates of king and com- 
mons cooperated for the first time since the downfall 
of the elder Pitt. Royalty had left its natural ally, 
the aristocracy, and had coalesced with its rival, the 
democracy. The House of Peers, naturally conser- 
vative, and made doubly so by the exclusive creations 
of Tories for fifty years, alone opposed itself to the 
grand result towards which every other element of the 
constitution was irresistibly tending. But the least 
powerful estate, with all its wealth and prestige, could 
not resist the impulse of every other force combined. 



246 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

To prevent a catastrophe equally degrading to their 
dignity, and destructive of their power, the bill was 
suffered to pass bj the absence of opposing lords. 

This measure was remarkably adapted to pre- 
serve the spirit of the national fabric, while at the 
same time it renovated and purged it. The crown 
still possessed an equitable control, and the peers 
continued to exert a balance power, while the true 
source of government, the people, were exalted to 
the preponderance. To prevent the unjust influence 
of the landed gentry over elections, fifty-six rot- 
ten boroughs were disenfranchised, and thirty more 
lost each a representative. To give a voice to the 
unrepresented multitudes of the manufacturing and 
commercial towns, forty-two of these obtained elec- 
toral rights. The inequality with which the right of 
franchise was distributed, demanded and acquired the 
remedy of a property qualification. The representa- 
tion of counties, before controlled by resident nobles 
and gentlemen, was so extended that the electors 
became independent. The minor abuse of expensive 
hustings was corrected by ample regulations for meth- 
odizing the manner of election. The same defects, 
which appeared in greater magnitude in Scotland and 
Ireland, were in these countries remedied by simi- 
lar provisions. Thus, by a wide and comprehensive 
reform, were many thousands admitted to a participa- 
tion in the government. The Houses of Commons 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 247 

became not only the reflected will of the people, but 
also the paramount authority of the state ; and, as 
the acquisition of power by responsible persons is apt 
to make them moderate and cautious, the popular 
estate became less violent for privilege, and more 
inclined to cooperate with the more stable branches of 
the legislature. The sovereign, less disposed to en- 
croach upon antagonistic power, because of the limits 
which restricted his prerogative, cordially united with 
the Commons in the construction of laws for the com- 
mon prosperity. That suspicious jealousy which had 
formerly made the administration difficult and per- 
plexing, gave way to a generous and mutual confi- 
dence. The effect of the reform has been to elevate 
the patriotism of all classes, to unite QYerj interest, 
and to harmonize the formerly irregular operation of 
the constitution. The salutary principle of ministries 
responsible to the popular representatives, which was 
unheard of before the restoration, and which was but 
imperfectly maintained in the reigns preceding that of 
William the Fourth, now became systematic and irre- 
sistible. The last lingering trace of that feudal power 
which had enabled nobles to dictate the choice of 
legislators, and to derive from the possession of titles 
and estates an almost predominant influence, was 
now swept away forever; yet this sudden transition 
from regal and aristocratic to popular government 
fortunately involved no radical overturning of sys- 



248 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

terns and customs, no riotous outbursts, no ebullition 
of frenzy and passion. All ranks acquiesced, most 
ranks rejoiced in the change. With the preservation 
of precedent and the monarchical character, an ample 
margin was secured for the modem developments of 
civilization. The benefits of ancient institutions were 
retained, their evils eradicated. The blessings of 
enhghtenment were effectually secured, while many 
of its defects were excluded from a dangerous proxim- 
ity to political power. While the system of bribery 
(a system too scandalously prominent in all free coun- 
tries) remained uncorrected by the reformers, and 
while it seems impracticable to destroy it by the im- 
perfect efforts of legislation, we may, nevertheless, look 
forward to its decline and gradual extinction, through 
the increasing refinement of public opinion. That 
element, to which all customs and manners are sub- 
ject, which dictates every form into which civilization 
moulds itself, and in opposition to which despots and 
aristocrats are powerless, is undoubtedly destined to 
brand with a fatal stigma that pernicious system in 
which principle and honor are sold for the poor recom- 
pense of silver and gold. 

Within the past century the privileges and powers 
of the Commons have become definite. The right to 
control the financial department of government ; the 
right of choosing its own speaker ; the right to judge 
of the conduct of its own members ; the right of immu- 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH EISTOBY. 249 

nity from arrest and seizure in civil prosecutions ; the 
right of publishing their papers, without the conse- 
quences of a libel ; the right to advise the executive 
in regard to questions of peace and war, and the ability 
to enforce that right by withholding the supplies ; the 
right to recommend a dissolution of Parliament ; the 
right to confirm or resist ministerial measures or per- 
sons ; the right to impeach members of either House 
before the high steward for official delinquency and 
private crime ; the exclusive right to tax the people 
whom they represent ; all these, before precarious or 
uncertain, have been established. The members, 
now dependent upon the favor of their constituents, 
and zealous to advance the manifold interests which 
they represent, are yet elected for a long term, and 
hence are neither the slaves of popular nor of individ- 
ual caprice. The rapidly accumulating influence of 
commerce and manufacture, before excluded (partly 
because of their former comparative unimportance, 
and partly because of the bigotry of the landed 
gentry) from the national councils, is now a gigantic 
power to enforce an equitable system of trade and 
maritime treaty. The triumph of the late Richard 
Cobden, in concluding a treaty with France, which 
insured prosperity and wealth to the great busy marts 
of England, is an admirable proof of the transition 
from agricultural to commercial predominance. 

Having now observed the changes which have 
11* 



250 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY, 

transformed the House of Commons from a subordi- 
nate to a superior estate, let us briefly consider the 
House of Lords as it has been and as it is. 

The numerical increase of this body within a cen- 
tury is more than double the number of peers who 
welcomed George the Third to the throne. Henry 
the Seventh summoned but twenty-nine temporal lords 
in the first year of his reign. In James the First's 
time there were fifty-nine; while the Stuarts aug- 
mented the number to one hundred and fifty. The 
union with Scotland brought into the House sixteen 
representative peers, in the reign of WilKam the 
Third. In 1760 there were one hundred and seventy- 
four, besides minors. Catholics, and bishops. The 
ministers of George the Third adopted a line of policy 
which obliged them to derive a distinct and hearty 
support from the aristocratic body ; their only course, 
therefore, was to throw into the House a multitude 
of men devoted to the court. In the twelve years of 
Lord North's administration, thirty new peerages were 
created. The younger Pitt raised to this hereditary 
dignity no less than one hundred and forty persons ; 
and in 1801, on the union with Ireland, twenty-eight 
representative peers sat in the United Parliament for 
life, in addition to four bishops who represented the 
Irish Episcopal church ; thus making an increase of 
one hundred and seventy-two votes in seventeen 
years. George the Fourth, WiUiam the Fourth, and 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 251 

Victoria, found less occasion for thus swellino^ the 
aristocratical element : and in their rei2:ns, extendinof 
from 1820 to 1860, one hundred and fifty-nine peer- 
ages have been created. In 1860 there were four 
hundred and sixty members of the House of Lords 
— nearly three times as many as there were at the 
accession of George the Third. Of this number there 
were twenty-six English and four Irish bishops, six- 
teen Scotch and twenty-eight Irish temporal lords. 
The rapid augmentation of the number of this body is 
not more noticeable than the changes which have 
transpired in its character. New and hitherto foreign 
elements have amalgamated with that of aristocratic 
blood. Other interests besides those of territorial pos- 
sessions and illustrious descent have been introduced 
into the hereditary council of the empire. [Merchants, 
whose vrealth and enterprise have made them expo- 
nents of the national commerce; generals, who have 
defended English rights and avenged English wrongs ; 
admirals, who have successfully maintained British 
supremacy on the seas ; orators and legislators, whose 
counsels in the lower House have marked them as 
proper objects of royal favor, or w^hose ability has 
made it necessary to transfer them to the leadership 
of the upper House ; diplomats, by whose art peaceful 
victories have been won ; lawyers, who have risen to 
the higher grades of the profession ; all these widely- 
diversified classes have been admitted to a representa- 



252 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

tion among the proud nobles who trace their lineage 
from the Howards and De Veres, the Talbots and 
Beauclerks, the Pelhams and Montagues. The eflPect 
of these creations has been to infuse a modern and 
popular spirit where was before an exclusive and an- 
tiquated devotion to precedent. While the great in- 
crease of their numbers may be thought to have 
diminished the dignity of the order, it has also ele- 
vated their intellectual and political standard. The 
ablest men of all professions and pursuits have be- 
come incessant participants in legislative deliberations. 
The sovereign has a perpetual source whence to derive 
able ministers. The measures of government and of 
the opposition bring to their defence the most acute 
minds and the most profound learning in the country. 
Commerce and agriculture, science and polite erudi- 
tion, eloquence and logic, the church and the sister 
kingdoms, all have a voice among the peers of the 
realm. The House of Commons, therefore, is not 
the only body which has become more representative 
in its character. A progressive and liberal spirit has 
begun to mark the proceedings in the upper House. 
That tenacious adherence to ancient forms, which 
made the lords a perpetual restraint upon the multi- 
plying calls of advancing civilization, is rapidly be- 
coming as lifeless as those forms themselves. Even 
the hereditary nobles, whose titles have come down to 
them through centuries, begin to catch the modem 

J 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 253 

activity which they find in all the other elements of 
their polity. The houses of Devonshire, Bedford, 
Argyle, Sutherland, Lansdowne, and Norfolk, illus- 
trious not less in their antiquity than for the long 
succession of eminent scions which they boast, and 
superior in dignity and hereditary wealth to the 
greatest Tory noblemen, now stand forth earnest and 
powerful champions of the doctrines of reform and 
the just rights of every class. If anything could 
prepossess one in favor of a dominant aristocracy, it is 
the spectacle which these peers present, of a disinter- 
ested and zealous love of their whole country. 

The small representations accorded to Scotland and 
Ireland in the upper House at first strike one as greatly 
disproportionate to the whole number. But the pro- 
portion becomes less unequal when we consider that 
many Scotchmen and Irishmen sit as British peers, 
beside those who are elected from among their own 
nobles. Of twenty-fives dukes, none of whom are 
representative peers, five are Scotch by birth and 
prejudice, and one Irish. Of thirty-two marquesses, 
seven are Scotch, and nine Irish. Of one hundred 
and sixty-three earls, twenty are Scotch, and twenty- 
three Irish. Of thirty-one viscounts, there are six 
Irish, and one Scotch. There are also seven Scotch 
and twenty-eight Irish barons. We thus find that, 
inclusive of representative and spiritual peers, Scot- 
land is represented by fifty-six, and Ireland by nine- 



254 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. ' 

tj-nine lords. Even these numbers hardly corre- 
spond with the relative population of the countries, 
and the relative antiquity of their respective no- 
bility. Almost all the peers, however, who, being 
Scotch or Irish, sit as independent British peers, have 
been elevated to that rank within the past century ; so 
that there is evidence of a more liberal spirit in the 
treatment of her sister kingdoms by the dominant 
nation. All peerages at present are hereditary, with 
the exception of the prelates, who hold their seats for 
Hfe. The question of life peerages has sometimes 
been mooted, but has ever been resisted by the House 
itself, as tending to destroy the hereditary, and hence 
independent, character of the body. It has occasion- 
ally occurred that women have been created peeresses 
for life ; but this species of nobility was mainly con- 
fined to the cunning mistresses of the Stuarts, and the 
fat and stolid dames who delighted the rude fancy of 
the two first Georges. 

The occupation of seats by the prelates of the es- 
tablished church has given rise to many and earnest 
discussions. The Presbyterians of Scotland, and the 
Roman Catholics of Ireland, and dissenters of all 
sorts in England, have been ill-disposed to become 
the subjects of Episcopal legislation. But however 
violent the opposition of these classes, which, though 
every day growing, are yet far in the minority, the 
political bond between church and state continues 



A CENTUBY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 255 

steadfast. The change of character which the epis- 
copal bench has undergone within a century, partly 
reconciles the feeling of animosity against them. In 
the reign of George the Third, the prelates were not 
cautious to sustain their sacred character, and mixed 
in the gay world always with alacrity, and sometimes 
to a scandalous excess. So eminent a functionary as 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Cornwallis, so far 
forgot himself as to indulge in revelry with a large 
and boisterous company, within the very precincts of 
Lambeth ; and so notorious was the fact that the king 
was forced to expostulate with him by letter. Devo- 
tion to sacred duties was secondary, at that day, to a 
morbid ambition for promotion, a bigoted party zeal, 
and the expensive luxuries of the capital. Public 
opinion has interposed to introduce into the prelacy 
an able and conscientious body of men, and the 
bishops now compose a most respectable branch of 
the constitution. Although there are doubtless some 
who are not to be proposed as models for incipient 
clergymen, the greater part appear conscious of the 
importance of their example, and if they possess vices 
inconsistent with their office, are careful to conceal 
them. For ability, there is not a more eminent class 
in the nation ; and for activity in promoting the wel- 
fare of religion, they are far beyond their predecessors 
of the eighteenth century. Notwithstanding the pres- 
tige of antiquity, the constitutional authority, and the 



256 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

great wealth which the nobility possess, their influence 
seems to be steadily diminishing. One of the causes 
which subverted the French aristocracy in the age be- 
tween the accession of Louis Fifteenth and the revo- 
lution, was the coincidence between the interests of 
the people and those of the crown. That cause is at 
work in England, but more tardily because of the 
greater stability of that people, and the more intimate 
relations borne by the peerage to the constitution. 

A thriving commerce and manufacturing enterprise 
are throwing great wealth into the hands of the 
middle classes ; and these, together with the landed 
gentry, far outstrip in riches the entire aristocracy. 
This engine of influence, therefore, will doubtless soon 
little avail the latter. Their only resort, it appears, 
to retain their present, and recover their former power, 
must be in intellectual and moral superiority. With 
the exception of a small minority, the nobles are slow 
to admit this as a final recourse ; but it becomes every 
day more apparent, that imless some effective position 
is taken, and some other ground sought, than birth 
and wealth, upon which to trust their security, they 
must eventually be swallowed up by the combined 
force of other and stronger elements. 

So comprehensive have been the improvements 
which the mother country has undergone since 1760, 
that this imperfect consideration of the political chan- 
ges cannot do more than give an idea of their extent. 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 257 

We have seen that the royal prerogative has been 
definitelj confined and recognized ; that the nobihtj 
have ceased to control the popular estate, and to be 
the shield of kingly caprice ; and that the commons 
have been elevated to the paramount influence in the 
political fabric. Equally beneficial have been the 
metamorphoses which have exalted the character of 
society. The moral tone of civilized circles has re- 
ceived a purer character, inasmuch as that vulgar 
colloquial taste which corrupted the highest classes a 
century ago is now only practised in bar-rooms and 
among the lowest orders. The elegant and polished 
association which has made Lansdowne House and 
Stafford House world-renowned, is in striking; con- 
trast with the boisterous gatherings which once scan- 
dalized Grosvenor Square and the Carlton House. 
That high standard of social communion which, under 
George the Third, was only to be found among the se- 
lect literary coteries where Burke, and Reynolds, and 
Gibbon, and Johnson combined intellectual with social 
luxury, has now diffused itself among the aristocratic 
circles, and has superseded the coarse revelries of 
other days. Formerly, abject flattery, low wit, par- 
tisan rancor, and easy morals were the best creden- 
tials to an intimacy with nobles and nabobs ; now, 
erudition and literary taste, courtesy of manner and 
affability of temper, are the requisites which enable 
men to mix with the great and wealthy. Literary 



258 GLIMPSES OF BISTORT. 

merit, before unrecognized, or at least not encouraged 
by the court, now receives homage from every rank 
of society. 

From the earliest periods the agricultural interests 
of Great Britain have been nursed with peculiar ten- 
derness, and formerly were enabled to subordinate 
the operations of commerce to the interest of land- 
owners. Feudal customs had settled and made per- 
manent the revenues of estates, and landholders had 
made the commercial interests of the nation subordi- 
nate to, agricultural prosperity. The century just 
passed has witnessed the transition from landed to 
commercial predominance. The great towns of Man- 
chester, Bristol, York, Birmingham, and Lancaster 
have entered into and influenced national legislation, 
and have successfully surmounted the restraints by 
which the enterprise of trade was confined. The 
reform was no less a triumph to philosophical liberty 
than to the interests of international traffic. At the 
present day there appears to be a salutary reconcilia- 
tion between the demands of the two opposing forces 
of human industry. Commerce has not bereft agri- 
culture of a just and substantial profit ; agriculture no 
longer dictates the high tariffs which formerly fettered 
commerce. 

A remarkable contrast presents itself between the 
history of England and that of France, during the 
period we have considered. The latter nation has 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 259 

passed from legitimate monarchy to revolution, from 
revolution to despotism, from despotism back to le- 
gitimate monarchy , thence through two revolutions ; 
and is once more reposing in the uncertain quiet of 
an absolute rule. So capricious and aimless have 
been the efforts of that people to achieve a free gov- 
ernment, that, after all the distresses of anarchy, 
they have failed to attain that vy^hich, without any 
disastrous events, England has attained. Starting 
together in 1760, under the government of an arbi- 
trary king, possessing a proud aristocracy, and a re- 
stricted suffrage, nothing is more illustrative of the 
difference of character between the Anglo-Saxon and 
the Celtic races, than the grace with which the former 
have acquired what with infinitely more effort the 
latter have utterly failed to acquire. One hundred 
years have profited France but little, vv^hile they have 
regenerated the British people, as well as the British 
constitution. 

No period has so exalted English literature as that 
between 1760 and 1860. Every department of letters 
has received illumination from the great votaries who 
have appeared since the accession of George the 
Third. As historians, Hmne and Gibbon, Robertson 
and Macaulay, Hallam and Grote, already rank, in 
the estimation of the learned world, with Tacitus and 
Herodotus, Livy and Xenophon. The Scotch school 
of philosophy has superseded that of Germany, by 



260 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

the works of Reid, Stewart, and Hamilton. Fiction 
has been reformed and made brilliant by Johnson, 
Groldsmith, Edgeworth, Scott, Thackeray, and Dick- 
ens. Poetry boasts an innumerable host of disci- 
ples, and has outstripped all other departments, not 
only in the amount, but also in the excellence, of its 
creations. The immortal Bos well and his patron 
Johnson, Southey, Lord Campbell, and Lord Rus- 
sell have ably represented biography. Religion has 
found illustrious champions in Paley, Horsley, Hall, 
Chalmers, and Isaac Taylor. Criticisni has also re- 
ceived more dignity from the writings of Carlyle, 
Brougham, Jeffrey, and Coleridge. The drama has 
emerged from the coarseness and levity which gave 
popularity to the " Beggar's Opera ; " and the writings 
of Goldsmith, Bulwer, and Talfourd approve them- 
selves alike to the understanding and the moral sense. 
K now we turn for a moment to the quality of 
British statesmanship within the past century, we 
discover, amid much ability, activity, and enterprise, 
the same selfish fidehty to British aggrandizement of 
which their history is a consistent record. No period 
has displayed a more complete devotion to this na- 
tional passion. On this question Tory and Whig, 
churchman and dissenter, imite on common ground. 
Party issues are ignored, and prejudices forgotten, 
when this magnetic influence acts upon the body 
politic. The despatches of foreign secretaries are 



A CENTURY OF ENGLISH HISTORY, 261 

notorious for their ambiguity, their subtlety, and the 
virtue they always possess to bear a double interpre- 
tation. The maxim of Talleyrand, that language is 
given us to conceal our thoughts, has become the 
spirit of the despatches from Downing Street. The 
welfare of peoples, dynasties, and principles must 
yield to the ascendency of England. The seeming 
inconsistencies in her history, when tested by this 
standard, are reduced to entire harmony. When we 
see her statesmen at one time excusing despotism, and 
at another encouraging a people struggling for liberty ; 
when sometimes she has united with other powers to 
demolish dynasties, and sometimes to reconstruct dy- 
nasties, we must look elsewhere than in the principles 
of philanthropy to explain her rapid transitions. The 
statesmen of the present day have not degenerated 
from their predecessors, in a rapt and exclusive love 
of British predominance ; and Lords Kussell and 
Palmerston are noted for caution and cunning in the 
composition of despatches. We cannot place much 
confidence in the amiable assurances of a secretary 
who could, in the short space of two months, expli- 
citly denounce, and then turn round and as expKcitly 
encourage, the designs of Sardinia on Venetia ; and 
both in ofl&cial despatches, in the face of all Europe. 
We have endeavored, in the brief survey just 
attempted, to convey some idea of the various results 
.which have come to the British empire from the expe- 



262 GLIMPSES OF HISTORY. 

rierice of a century. That century, so pregnant with 
great events, not only on the continent of Europe, but 
also on this side of the Atlantic, has not been unattended 
with commotion and discord in the three kingdoms. 
Repeated warfare with their neighbors across the chan- 
nel, the extension of their empire by conquest over 
India, vain attempts to retain in submission their subject 
provinces in America, the riots of Wilkes and Gordon, 
the long contest, successfully ended, with the first Na- 
poleon, and numerous discontents of the people, and 
changes of ministries, have kept bright and active the 
energies of the British people. And amid the uni- 
versal activity of that nation, literature and science, 
the peaceful pursuits of benevolence, of agriculture, 
and of religious zeal, have flourished, and have ele- 
vated the tone of every class. 







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